Early history of Jacob Stahl

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THE EARLY HISTORY OF
JACOB STAHL

THE EARLY HISTORY
OF

JACOB STAHL

BY

J. D. BERESFORD

• "I would beget this larger faith in thee,
' That nought we do or suffer is in vain."
AuTHOB Scott Craven:

The Latt qf the Enalith, Act IV.

NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY

Copyright, 1911,
Bt Geokge H. Dohan Compant

AU rightt rtttntd

PR

GOoS
B4453€

TO

BEATRICE

CONTENTS

BOOK ONE

HESTER
Chapteb Page

I Tempkrament and Fortuities 3

II Early Influences 11

III Hester 29

IV The Process of the Miracle 43

V The Choice of a Profession 55

BOOK TWO

MADELINE

VI The Burgeonino 65

VII Elmover 83

VIII The Elmover Garden-Party 94

IX The Purlieus of Elmover 104

X Development 120

XI Bennetts in Opposition 138

XII Elmover Preserves 141

XIII The Wheatsheaf Claret 162

XIV Eric in Opposition 162

XV A Determination 177

XVI The Heart of Elmover 185

XVII New Horizons 204

BOOK THREE

TONY FARRELL

XVIII The Office of Mr. Ridout Morley 213

XIX Various Discoveries 231

XX Adventure 251

XXI The End of Hester and Tony 273

Vlll

CONTENTS

BOOK FOUR

OWEN BRADLEY
Ghapteb Pagk

XXII Illuminatiok 309

XXIII Bradley's Translation 335

BOOK FIVE

LOLA

XXIV An Introduction and an Engagement . . , . 359

XXV A Parenthesis 393

XXVI Marriage 397

XXVII Single and Unmarried 422

XXVIII Another Anodyne 444

XXIX The Indiscretion of Cairns 461

XXX Recrudescence 477

XXXI Crisis 499

XXXII Settlement 506

EPILOGUE

The Earth-Nots 510

BOOK ONE
HESTER

JACOB STAHL

BOOK ONE
HESTER

CHAPTER I

TEMPEEAMENT AND FOETUITIES
1.

The first link in the chain was obviously forged by
temperament. Either Mrs. Stahl or Nancy Freeman,
who filled many offices in the Stahl household, none of
them satisfactorily, neglected to replace the lid of the
flour-tub. Similar and greater acts of neglect had
been committed in the past, and no penalty exacted,
but on this occasion a fortuitous mouse intruded into
the flour-tub and made history. Of this mouse noth-
ing more is known. Doubtless it was a well-meaning
creature enough. Indeed, we only know that it was a
mouse at all, from circumstantial evidence. It came
and went, left a musky trace of its passage, and
vanished.

Mrs. Stahl had an Irish temperament, chiefly evi-
denced in a habit of procrastination and a reposeful
trust in miracles. The procrastinating habit may
have been responsible for the absence of a lid from
the flour-tub, certainly it was responsible for the
presence of Nancy Freeman. Mrs. Stahl had
thought, and said, that she must " really look out for
another girl," and it is possible that she would have

4 JACOB STAHL

braced herself to the effort had it not been for that
other factor In her temperament — her sweet faith in
the impossible. However inefficient Nancy proved
herself, Mrs. Stahl always hoped that she would do
better to-morrow or next week. Mrs. Stahl main-
tained her happiness by such illusions as these. She
had an imagination and directed it in her service;
she pictured a reformed Nancy, and the picture be-
came real to her. She told herself stories of a per-
fected Nancy, and believed them. " Why don't you
sack the girl,'' " Hermann Stahl would ask when he
came home for the week-end, and found disorder.
" Oh, she 's been so much better lately," would be the
reply, and Mrs. Stahl believed that Nancy really had
been better.

Not but what Nancy was a willing girl enough, but
she was empty-headed and more than a little vain.
For her vanity she had some justification. She was
admired by several ambitious young Camberwell
tradesmen, beginning life behind the counter or on
the seat of a delivery cart. Also, she was admired
and flattered by the penny postman, a widower of
some standing and a man possessed of much curious
information. On Sunday afternoons Nancy wore a
chignon and hoops; she was before her time as a
servant type, one of the pioneers of the " better-
dressed-than-mistress " order. With so many affairs
on hand it is easy to understand that Nancy had little
time for her duties in the Stahl household.

It was on a windy morning early in October that
Mrs. Stahl crossed the trail of the historical mouse.
She made the discovery at a time when she should have
made her pastry, but she, nevertheless, wasted a few
more precious minutes in waiting for a miracle. She
sniffed the flour-tub wistfully, and added ocular to
olfactory evidence, but though the evidence was pre-

TEMPERAMENT AND FORTUITIES 6

sented time after time in a precisely similar manner,
she returned to her examination on each occasion with
a reinspired hope that she might have been mistaken.
At last, in despair, she summoned Nancy.

Nancy was " doing " the front bedroom, her chief
instrument a duster which required frequent flourish-
ings out of the front window. After each flourish
Nancy rested and watched the passers-by. It was an
interesting occupation, and she was resentful, almost
indignant, when she heard the summons of her mis-
tress. "Drat yer, what's it now?" was her com-
ment, spoken to an imaginary audience, and she lin-
gered regretfully at the window until slje heard the
sound of footsteps coming upstairs.

" I want ye just to come downstairs a minut," said
Mrs. Stahl, coaxingly.

" Yesm," replied Nancy. " I was just shaking out
the duster. Did you call befor'm? " Nancy's con-
ception of a respectful form of address was the ad-
dition of an occasional " m " to her words.

"Now just smell that!" said Mrs. Stahl, when
the pair arrived in the kitchen, and she pushed the
flour-tub towards Nancy and waited eagerly for the
verdict. After all, she might have been mistaken.
Nancy sniffed.

" Well I never ! " she said, and her glance at the
cupboard under the dresser, and the instinctive twitch
she gave to her petticoats, raised the alarm of
*' Mouse ! " as clearly as any spoken words.

"What d'ye think 's been at it.?" asked Mrs.
Stahl, searching for a last gleam of hope.

" Why, micem ! "

Mrs. Stahl sighed. " I was afraid so," she said.
** Now ye '11 just have to run round to Beeton's like
a good girl, and fetch me some more flour."

" Yesm ! " responded Nancy with alacrity. There

6 JACOB STAHL

was a passable, embryo grocer at Beeton's, and the
trip presented itself as preferable even to the flour-
ishing of a duster from the front bedroom window.

" And it 's a fine morning," added Mrs. Stahl
glancing out of the window, and discounting the force
of the equinoctial gale that was ravishing the plane-
trees. " Ye 'd better take baby."

The baby was Jacob Stahl, aged seven months and
two days.

Nancy put a shawl over her head, and pinned up
the bib of her apron. On week-days her potentiali-
ties as a pioneer were not in evidence. The perambu-
lator was wheeled out, and little Master Jacob was
laid therein. Little brother Eric, aged three, should
have joined the pilgrimage on foot, but he was very
much occupied with a large picture-book; he was
studying the letters of the alphabet, and objected to
being disturbed. As usual, it was Mrs. Stahl who
gave way. Eric already exhibited signs of precocity,
a desire for book-learning, and a persistent habit of
getting his own way were his most noticeable traits,
seen at the age of three.

The perambulator deserves recognition. It was
three-wheeled and heavy. Its tyres were of iron
and its construction primitive, but in one respect it
corresponded exactly to the finest product of twen-
tieth-century mechanism. It conformed to the law
of modem four-wheeled perambulators, that law
which still obtains among present examples. It
never ran in a straight line. Nancy was flurried
by the wind, — it faced her on the outward jour-
ney, — and the necessity for the constant elevation
and redirection of the front wheel, irritated her.
Nowadays, perambulators are such butterfly, such

TEMPERAMENT AND FORTUITIES 7

delicately balanced contrivances, that little weight
on the handles is required in order to tilt those self-
willed front wheels off the ground, in fact, it is not
unusual to see a logical nurse neglect the front
wheels altogether, slant the whole contrivance to an
angle at which equilibrium can be maintained with-
out difficulty, and sail gaily along regardless of any
risk from baby's unusual inclination, so perilously
suggestive of a " rush of blood to the head." But
it would have needed the exercise of considerable
strength so to have tilted Jacob's perambulator;
moreover, Nancy required a free hand to prevent
the forcible abduction of her shawl. The wind was
in one of its most rakish moods that morning. Little
wonder that Nancy lost her temper at the necessity
of loosing her grip on the shawl, and thus risking its
elopement with ^olus, in order to reset that ob-
stinately divagating front wheel, on the straight
path.

Nevertheless the journey to Beeton's was accom-
pHshed successfully, a brief flirtation was conducted,
and the flour obtained and placed in the foot of the
perambulator beyond the reach of Jacob's tiny legs.

** A fine child," remarked the passable young
grocer, as he arranged the parcel.

" M — yes ! " replied Nancy casually, and then
to show her interest she added : " Nice eyes, he *s
got."

" Not the only one," said the young grocer with
marked intention, and Nancy bridled and answered
that she did n't want any of his impertinence, and
so sailed off in the direction of home with a following
wind.

She appeared to be set for a fine passage. The
shawl now clung tightly to her, and if the outline of
her form was very clearly exposed to any who might

8 JACOB STAHL

follow her, Nancy was not apparently handicapped
by the circumstance.

The penny postman was a fortuity. He turned
into the wake of Nancy's passage from a side street,
and Nancy glimpsed him out of the tail of her eye.
Forgetful of the wind, she turned half round to
make sure.

It is at this point that all the trivialities, outcomes
of other trivialities, suddenly coincide. As Nancy
turned, there came one of those insidious gusts of
wind that are to the last degree exasperating. One
of those bursts that take you by the shoulders and
shake you, that wriggle and push and struggle, that
seem desperately anxious to escape from nowhere
and find you opposing them, that are rough and ill-
tempered, and desperately vicious, self-assertive, ar-
rogant, and overbearing; that throw dirt and leaves
in your face, push you out of their way with an
unbelievable rudeness, and then career down the street
with a triumphant shout, taking with them any ar-
ticle that can be violently wrenched from your person.

Nancy threw up both hands to clutch her shawl.

The pavement was on a slight incline, the peram-
bulator had a little way on it, and the whole force
of the wind behind. It was a heavy perambulator,
and it gathered momentum.

Nancy, aif routed by the ill-mannered jostling of
the wind, did not realize the situation, and no one
can blame her; nor can any blame be attached to
the penny postman, for he saw the danger and started
to run, shouting, in pursuit of the perambulator.
He might have caught it if the infernal affair had
run straight or turned in towards the wall, but as
though rejoicing in its unwonted freedom, it set a
diagonal course for the roadway, sailed along gaily
for some ten yards, reached the curb, lost its hold

TEMPERAMENT AND FORTUITIES 9

of earth with the oif rear wheel, staggered, lurched,
and upset.

The still shouting postman was first on the scene.
Nancy, so soon as she caught sight of the runaway,
covered her face in the shawl, the retention of which
was to be so dearly paid for, and was subsequently
led home, weeping. It was the postman who rescued
a floury and ominously quiet baby from the gutter,
and who placed him in the perambulator re-erected
by the first contingent of the rapidly collecting
crowd.

"Is 'e 'urt.?" "'Oo was with 'im? " "Is it a
boy or a gel.'' " were the questions suggested by the
various characters and sexes of the crowd. The penny
postman's face was very grave as he looked down
at the uncannily silent child.

" I know where 'e lives. I '11 take 'im 'ome," was
all the answer vouchsafed to inquirers.

It was a startling and terrifying picture which
met Mrs. Stahl on the doorstep. A solemn postman,
a very white baby, and a miscellaneous assortment
of wide-eyed onlookers — withal no Nancy.

" Been a little haccident," said the postman. *' I '11
fetch the doctor.'*

S.

Dr. Pennyfather was a reassuring person but weak
in diagnosis. After he had made a somewhat cur-
sory examination of the tender little frame of baby
Jacob, he beamed encouragingly on the anxious Mrs.
Stahl. " No, nothing serious, I think,^* was his ver-
dict, " but we must be careful of this bruise at the
back of the head. Very careful. The sutures are
hardly closed yet." That bruise was the scare which
drew Pennyfather off the track. He tended that bruise

10 JACOB STAHL

with solicitude. It was a marked thing, other bruises,
notably one at the base of the spine, were overlooked.

Even after this reassurance, Mrs. Stahl's fury of
resentment against Nancy did not subside. Nancy
was packed off within an hour, despite all protesta-
tions of sorrow and of innocence.

In passing out of the Stahls' household, she passed,
also, out of the history of Jacob. In after years she
was a name to him, a name round which a legend of
carelessness and neglect had been woven. To Jacob
the name of Nancy Freeman stood later for all that
was flippant, idle, and self-seeking in woman. Yet
Nancy made an excellent wife and mother, and reared
five healthy children. It was the young grocer she
married, not the penny postman.

CHAPTER n

lAELY INFLUENCES
1.

Jacob Stahl's grandfather, Otto Stahl, generically a
German, specifically a Bavarian, a Municher, had set-
tled in London somewhere in the thirties, and had
eventually been made a partner in the business of
Myers and Co., a firm of wool-brokers in Coleman
Street, known under the style of Myers and Stahl.
Otto Stahl married Hester Myers, the daughter of
his partner, a pure-blooded Jewess, after waging a
five years' war of aggression upon the orthodox prin-
ciples of Hester's father, and took her to live in
Bloomsbury, the early Victorian Kensington. There
were three children of this marriage, one of whom, the
second girl, died young. The eldest daughter was
christened Hester after her mother, and like her
brother Hermann was brought up on her father's
Lutheran principles, placidly acquiesced in, though
never actually adopted, by Mrs. Stahl.

Hester favoured her father's family in appearance
as well as in faith, and became a wide, flat, plain-
featured woman, endowed with splendid qualities of
steadfastness and good-nature — a woman who would
have made an ideal wife and mother. Unfortunately
her lack of physical charm, combined with a natural
modesty that prevented her from ever taking the ini-
tiative, proved a barrier to the attainment of those
ends for which she was pre-eminently fitted — a fact
that she openly lamented with honest common sense

1« JACOB STAHL

when she had arrived at an age when any hope of
marriage might reasonably be supposed to have
disappeared.

When Hester was fifteen her mother died, the im-
mediate cause of her death failure of the heart's
action — a failure determined by the necessity for an
increase of work within continually decreasing limits,
due to the superabundantly flesh-forming qualities of
Mrs. Myers' person. From this time until her father
died, twenty years later, Hester managed the Blooms-
bury establishment with a precision and economy that
marked her out as a model housekeeper — indeed,
she had what amounted to a genius for domestic
management.

Her brother, Hermann, was more versatile. With
him the Jewish graft bore more fruit than the German
stock, but it was fruit of poor quality, giving evidence
of arrested development. Doubtless the flow of sap
was too sluggish.

Hermann was educated at the City of London
School, was taken into his father's firm at the age of
seventeen, and remained there until he was twenty-
four. The immediate cause of the rupture between
father and son was Hermann's determination to
marry Hilda O'Connell, an Irish girl of little educa-
tion, whom he had met during a summer holiday.
This in itself was a matter of sufficient seriousness to
cause a breach between the two men, but the relations
between them were already strained, and a smaller
point of dispute would have been sufficient to bring
about a permanent estrangement.

Hermann's temperament was unsuited to office
work, yet a certain determination of purpose, com-
bined with a love of money for its own sake inherited
from his mother's family, had held him in check, kept
him within the bounds of his father's endurance. The

EARLY INFLUENCES IS

boy's occasional outbursts and indiscretions had
often been made the subject of severe reprimand, and
many a telling punishment had been inflicted by a
reduction or temporary cessation of his salary; but
his offences had, hitherto, been ultimately condoned
upon a promise of better behaviour, although these
promises were never kept for long, and Otto Stahl had
confessed to being " about sick of it," only a few
weeks before his son's crowning indiscretion created
the final breach between them.

There is not much to be said in favour of Hermann.
He was a hybrid whose undeveloped virtues and un-
steady desires conflicted only to certain ends. In
business his penurious methods and characteristic
meanness in all money matters brought him financial
security, but militated against his obtaining any great
success. He made no big coups because he dared no
risks, his financial genius was obscured by the caution
and stolidity inherited from his father's family.
When he left, or, to be more precise, was ejected,
from his father's firm, he obtained a position as trav-
eller for a wholesale house, in Wood Street, which
dealt in machine-made lace, chiefly in the form of trim-
mings and insertions.

The work suited him, in that it gave him a certtiin
amount of leisure and the interest of perpetual travel,
as his work lay principally among the drapers in the
smaller provincial towns of England and Wales. He
never neglected his business, chiefly because he worked
largely on commission, and among the pleasures he
found in life, he found none so attractive as the ag-
gregation of money.

His married life, if not a triumphant success, was
not entirely a failure. The zest inspired by the nat-
ural purity and remoteness of his Irish girl, was never
quite lost; largely maintained, no doubt, in later

14 JACOB STAHL

years by the long periods of separation between hus-
band and wife, for Hermann was hardly ever at home
except at the week-end, and not then, if he could make
an additional sixpence by charging his firm for trav-
elling expenses he had not incurred.

One other unpleasant trait of Hermann's character
must be touched upon, however briefly — he was not
a faithful husband, a fact never suspected by his wife.
A simple, sweet-minded woman, this wife of Hermann
Stahl's, devoid of evil thoughts, who attributed noth-
ing but good to all with whom she associated; a de-
voted wife and mother, but quite inefficient as a house-
keeper, her vagaries in this latter direction the one
source of friction between her and her husband. With
him domestic economy was a science, whilst she was
innocent even of arithmetic.

Nevertheless it was not an unhappy household, this
little Camberwell menage of the Stahls'. Nancy Free-
man's successor proved a jewel, and devoted herself
heart and soul to the care of the little Jacob, con-
demned for the first fifteen years of his life never to
put his feet to the ground. The elder boy, Eric,
neither then, nor at any later period of his life, gave
trouble to anyone. A solid serious person, Jacob's
brother, with a genius for application. In him all the
hereditary tendencies seemed to have blended and con-
solidated. In Hermann Stahl they were all awash,
bumping and tumbling; some two or three of the
bigger always in evidence, the others, sometimes on
top, at others forced below the surface; an untidy,
heterogeneous collection of qualities with nothing to
bind them together.

A strange convention of races and conflicting ten-
dencies this that lies behind Jacob Stahl and his
brother Eric, but the laws of heredity are hard to
understand. That primary inclination to deviate

EARLY INFLUENCES 15

from the original type upsets all calculation from the
outset, since it is impossible to foretell what direction
the variations will take, and all these variations are
checked from spreading too rapidly by the human
instinct that makes the small man marry a woman six
feet high. If like were attracted to like in the making
of marriages, how much more quickly maji's evolution
would progress, and what queer types we should have
in a few generations, even in such a small matter as
that of noses, for instance.

The early years of Jacob's life were all spent in Cam-
berwell, a suburb that offered among other advan-
tages that of being within easy distance of Alleyn Col-
lege. Not that this convenience affected Jacob, whose
education was conducted spasmodically as occasion
offered, but Eric was permitted to make full use of
his opportunity, and solidified in body as a result of
his compulsory six-mile walk each day, nearly as much
as he solidified in mind as a result of his educational
training.

It is hard to avoid using some variation of the
word " solidity " in connection with Eric, but it is
the quality of compactness that is implied rather than
that of heaviness. He was not brilliant, yet he won
a certain measure of success, because he never tired,
because he never failed to achieve what he set out to
achieve, and because work came more easily to him
than play. Games were not distasteful to him; he
played cricket, football, or hockey according to the
season, with a certain amount of success that was due
to his concentration on the matter in hand. In fact
as a cricketer he might have achieved high honours,
for he was a " head bowler " of considerable capacity.

16 JACOB STAHL

and was endowed with great powers of physical en-
durance. But when at the age of fifteen he was in
danger of being tried for the first eleven, he suddenly
exhibited an extraordinary tendency to bowl wides and
half-volleys. Eric had no ambition to win honours
on the cricket field, no intention of wasting too much
time on a sport that made no real appeal to him.

As a result of this lack of enthusiasm for such an
essential part of the curriculum, Eric was not popu-
lar with the boys ; neither was he, for another reason,
a favourite with the masters, despite the credit he
brought to them and to the college. The latter fail-
ure — if it can be called a failure — was due to his
character as a whole ; he was too self-contained, too
self-sufficient, to win friendship either from his con-
temporaries or his seniors. He made no appeal of
weakness, accepted the learning of superior scholar-
ship with a quiet assurance that gave no gratifica-
tion to him who imparted it, and was wont, in his
confident, impassive way, to correct any of those slips
that are certain to be made sooner or later, even by
the most efficient teacher whose course of instruction
is not confined to a single subject. This tendency
of Eric's towards a sturdy dogmatism was the more
irritating to a man of high attainments, in that the
boy never made an assertion, much less attempted a
contradiction, if he was not absolutely sure of his
ground; and when Eric was sure of a thing it was
quite certain that that thing was susceptible of
proof.

As Eric plays an important, if not a very large,
part in this history, it is as well to have a clear un-
derstanding of his character and attainments at the
outset, and no better summary could be given of
them than that of Percy Morpeth, the man who spent
his genius in teaching mathematics, officially, and the

EARLY INFLUENCES 17

principles of life, unofficially, to boys of all ages in
and out of college.

Morpeth was talking shop to two of his fellow
masters, and the chief topic was Eric's success.

" Yes," remarked Morpeth, after a pause in the
conversation, " I have a great pity for Stahl," and
then in answer to the expostulation and surprise of
his listeners, he continued : " He may win all manner
of success, I grant you, in scholarship, but he is
barred from great success in the world of men be-
cause he has neither principles, nor humanity. Yes,
yes, I know he does the right thing, from what we
call principle, but it is a matter of logic not of feel-
ing. I noticed an incident not long ago that bears
me out rather well on that point. When young
Anderson was caught pilfering and was expelled, I
found that Stahl amongst others had been a loser
by Anderson's kleptomaniacal instincts. I was rather
interested, and asked Stahl to come up to my room
after school, which he did, as usual, without any sign
of enthusiasm. You may remember that I was in-
terested in Anderson because I believed, and do still,
that the boy was suffering from an obsession and
was not morally to blame. Well, I found that Stahl
had known all about Anderson's little games for
some weeks before the facts came to light generally.
' Why did n't you tell anyone ? ' I asked naturally
enough. ' Hardly the thing to do, was it, sir.'' ' said
Stahl. I confess I was rather pleased, I did n't
think the boy had so much generosity, so I asked
him if he had tried to stop Anderson, if he had talked
to him.'* * No, sir,' said Stahl, and when I inquired
why not, he said quite calmly, * I saw he was sure to
hang himself sooner or later, sir, if he was left alone.'
You see, as a matter of principle he understands that
it is not the right thing — that it is outside the code

18 JACOB STAHL

of the best schoolboy honour — to show up young
Anderson ; but there is not the shghtest feehng about
it, he did not care two straws whether the boy hung
himself or not, to use his own expression. With
Stahl it was just a matter of two and two must and
ever will make four, a fact for which there is no pal-
liation, and no excuse is needed. An emotional two
or a temperamental four is outside the range of
Stahl's comprehension. I always feel that Stahl is
a conglomerate, you cannot separate the ingredients
of his character, they are all bound together in one
solid mass. Your true artist must always have a
deep sympathy with humanity, because he sees him-
self continually in the men and women he meets.
And don't you see that this is because he has the
faculty — which Stahl has not — of separating his
ingredients as it were, of being able to call up any
side of his character at will — or, if you prefer it,
of surrendering himself to any of his emotions —
and allowing one side of him to dominate his sensa-
tions for a time? It is that which gives him the
power of understanding other men's weakness and
strength; he has all their potentialities, and can de-
velop them separately by the power of his imagina-
tion. Put it this way: a genius can weigh human
nature because he is so delicately balanced; Stahl,
never, because he is so rigid."

If Morpeth had needed any confirmation of his
theory, he might have found it in the criticisms of
his hearers, themselves grown too rusty at the mental
hinge to respond to the theory put forward.

Jacob had none of his brother's talent for appli-
cation. It is true that his early training encour-

EARLY INFLUENCES 19

aged him in a habit of idleness, but the effect of
training on character is merely that of development.
There was a bias in Jacob's mind that no amount
of education would have counteracted, just as in the
case of Eric there was a combination that had no
solvent. In the case of these two boys, it so chanced
that each, by force of circumstances, fell under the
influences best calculated to exaggerate his natural
bent. If their positions had been reversed, the career
of each would have been different — ^potentialities
would have remained undeveloped, inclinations ar-
rested, lesser powers encouraged — but no training
could have produced in Jacob his brother's love of
application, nor would the lack of opportunity have
frustrated Eric's devotion to work.

Education may warp, even suppress, the inclina-
tions of the commonplace mind ; it may in such cases
produce a fruit exotic to the natural soil; but its
effect upon the finer intellects is limited by the power
of discrimination exercised by the mind upon which
the influence is exerted.

Jacob's youth was blighted, and his subsequent
career largely affected, by that lack of unanimity in
diagnosis which was even more marked in the opinions
of medical men forty years ago than it is to-day.

His first adviser was the local practitioner Penny-
father, who decided after five months' careful study
that the year-old baby had sustained a permanent
injury to the spine, and would never be able to walk.
The exact nature of the injury he was unable to de-
fine, preferring, in the absence of particular knowl-
edge, to confine himself to a discourse upon the effect,
rather than upon the cause, of the malady.

When he was three years old, Jacob was taken to
Sir Frederick Miller, then acknowledged to be the
first authority on spinal diseases in Great Britain.

20 JACOB STAHL"

This expert, after an examination of the child's robust
body and skeleton legs, decided that the nerve-motors
of the extensor muscles had been paralyzed from the
waist down, that it was impossible to trace the pre-
cise seat of the evil which had undoubtedly been
caused by a concussion of the spine due to the fall,
that even if the mischief could be precisely located
no operation was possible, and, finally, that a medical
battery might possibly be used with some beneficial
results, but a complete cure must never be anticipated.
Sir Frederick recommended the young patient to be
kept flat on his back in order that Nature might be
allowed full scope to repair the mischief in her own
wonderful way.

As a result of this opinion and of Hermann Stahl's
disinclination to spend any more money upon his
younger son, Jacob was condemned to a further
period of quiescence. A small medical battery was
acquired, second-hand, and used regularly for a few
months, then, as the magnet had lost its power and
no beneficial results had declared themselves, it was
added to Jacob's stock of toys.

At the age of seven, Jacob's nature grew tired of
too much resting, and, seeking an outlet for her
undeveloped powers, spent her tempers upon Jacob's
misunderstood person by visiting him with a succes-
sion of abscesses on the back. As a result of this
and of the continued entreaties of his wife, Hermann
at last consented once more to part with a sum suffi-
cient to consult higher authority than the family
doctor, and Jacob was taken to Mordaunt Stone.
Stone was then at the height of his popularity, looked
upon as a quack by the medical profession, but work-
ing, according to repute, wonderful cures in cases
that had been abandoned as incurable by the faculty.

" We '11 have him playin' cricket in a month," was

EARLY INFLUENCES 81

Stone's pronouncement. " Ye see, madam," he ex-
plained to Mrs. Stahl, " there 's one thing in this
world your doctor with his hospital trainin' will never
make any use of — and that 's common sense. He 's
all for classifyin' the symptoms accordin' to rules
and regulations, an' when he 's reduced 'em to a pro-
portion sum, he can work ye out an answer on paper
as clever as paint. Only the trouble begins when his
figures is all wrong at the beginnin', an' his calcu-
lations don't fit, because, ye see, when ye 're dealing
with human nature twice two ull just as soon make
twenty-foive as the number ye 're taught naturally
to expect. Now, what 's wrong with the lad is j ust
that he 's been kept lyin' on his back for sivin years
wid nothin' to kick against, an' his natural forces not
havin' had the encouragement they 'd every right to
look for, have just protested by sending him these
nasty little sores. They 're just signals of distress,
ma'am, an' we must send 'em a life-boat, only it 's a
boat as he '11 have to work himself, and it '11 go on
wheels."

Stone was a mechanical genius, and his prescrip-
tion took the form of an extraordinary vehicle pro-
pelled mainly by the arms of its occupant, but hav-
ing a contributory means of power in rising and
falling pedals — platforms is a better description —
designed to exercise Jacob's feet and legs.

The idea was an excellent one, and did justice to
Mordaunt Stone's powers of common sense, but it
had tAvo disadvantages: the first that it was just
three times too heavy — the cycle trade had not
then revolutionized our conception of light vehicles
— the second that the temptation to use the pedal
motor was not sufficiently strong to overcome Jacob's
natural disinclination to exert the atrophied muscles
of his legs. As a consequence Jacob paddled himself

8« JACOB STAHL

along in his new carriage (it cost Hermann £25) by
the exercise of his arms alone, his legs moving auto-
matically up and down, but contributing not the
least fraction of a horse-power to the propulsion of
the vehicle. And even so, exercise could at first be
taken only on a dead level, for the machine was too
heavy, and Jacob's arms too weak to make the least
headway against an incline, while the same elements
of weight and weakness made it dangerous for him
to attempt any descent. And his mother, dear, un-
practical woman, was always there to push, and her
feeble protests that Jacob must try to use his legs
were instantly crushed by the complaint that it made
him so tired.

Nevertheless, the movement necessitated by the use
of his machine, saved Jacob's legs from wasting away
altogether, and probably encouraged their growth,
for they did grow lengthwise. One thing at least
Stone's machine did for him, and that was to develop
his arms and chest.

4.

There are few incidents worthy of notice in Jacob's
life, other than that introduction of his machine, until
he was nearly fourteen. By way of supplying him
with some kind of education he was sent every morn-
ing to a preparatory school, kept by two sisters in
the neighbourhood.

The sisters were of the Victorian, genteel type.
Their father had been an alderman and had had an
establishment at Heme Hill, but he left very little
behind him, and his daughters had been compelled to
augment their income by teaching. Not that they
were to be pitied on that account, for they did very
well, and their gentility suffered no diminishment.

EARLY INFLUENCES 23

The elder Miss Parry was tall and thin. She dressed
in black silk, and wore a pince-nez on a thin gold
chain. She was generally supposed to be " rather
an invalid," a theory in which she herself was a firm
believer, and encouraged by never putting in an ap-
pearance before lunch. Her part of the burden of
educating the twelve small boarders and the twenty-
two day boys, was confined to giving music lessons
and taking one class in dictation during the afternoon.
She had her value, however, for she received the par-
ents, and Miss Janet's irreproachable manner, her
dignified presence, and her air — when there were any
parents about — of tenderness for, and calm for-
bearance with, the aggravating habits of small boys
was a big financial asset. In private it may be noted
that Miss Janet was slightly acid.

Her younger sister, Miss Nancy, was short and
thick-set, and wore spectacles. No one would have
recognized Miss Nancy without the spectacles. When
she desired to see anything without their aid she wore
them on her forehead, her eyebrows being apparently
designed by nature to prevent them from slipping
back to the bridge of her nose; but whether on her
nose or her forehead, the spectacles were always there.
Miss Nancy taught in the school from 9.30 to 1, and
from 2 to 4, she did all the housekeeping and over-
looked the cooking, mended the boarders' clothes,
superintended the meals, saw the boys to bed, nursed
her sister, and occupied her spare time in making her
own dresses. In the work of the school she was as-
sisted by two governesses, one who attended daily, and
one who was resident. An excellent person. Miss
Nancy, although she did not receive the respect ac-
corded to the superior attainments of her sister.

Jacob was a favourite with both sisters. Janet
spoiled him and Nancy taught him. Even the resident

M JACOB STAHL

governess, an austere Scotchwoman of thirty-four,
relaxed her discipline in his favour. For, even at the
age of eight, Jacob was interesting to women. You
picture him at this age with a long, oval face; pale
and rather thin. He looks, perhaps, paler by virtue
of the contrast afforded by thick dark hair — always
too long because his mother preferred it like that —
and the deep blue of his eyes. It is a very serious
face, full of pathos that obtains for him a pity he does
not merit, for Jacob was never to be pitied even in his
childhood. He had an exceedingly good time in his
own way, and he never envied those ordinary, common-
place little boys who had the full use of their limbs.
Not he !

But other boys could be a source of trouble some-
times. Jacob discovered this on the second day of his
school career. Up to that time his only experience
in this sort had been of Eric, who was kind to him
on the whole, if a little inclined to bully him quietly
when their mother was out of the way. Even Eric
was somewhat as other boys at the age of ten.

6.

That incident of Jacob's second day at the Miss
Parrys' does not show him in a very favourable light.

Miss Nancy had been urgently summoned by the
cook, and had left the class to reconsider an ill-learnt
lesson, under threat of severe penalties should they
fail to be letter-perfect on her return.

The moment Miss Nancy had closed the door be-
hind her, an overgrown sandy-haired boy of eleven
or twelve, who had been sitting with his back to
Jacob, turned and surveyed him with a curious stare,
an example followed by the seven other little boys
who constituted the top form. It was their first

EARLY INFLUENCES 186

opportunity for a decent examination of this new and
strange specimen, as their previous covert glances in
his direction had been so severely reprimanded by
Miss Nancy as to make it inadvisable to indulge
further curiosity. Miss Nancy kept a cane and knew
how to use it.

" What 's the matter with you .'' " asked the sandy-
haired boy.

" My legs are weak," returned Jacob with a con-
ciHatory smile — he was not at all shy, he had never
had cause to be afraid.

" Can't you walk.? " continued his cross-examiner.
Jacob shook his head.

" Won't you ever be able to ? "

" I don't expect so."

"What's the matter with 'em?" The sandy-
haired boy had by this time put his legs over the
form, and was studying the rug that covered Jacob's
lower limbs, stretched out on the sofa that had been
specially introduced for his benefit.

" I hurt my back when I was a baby," said Jacob.

" Let 's look at 'em," said the sandy-haired boy,
pulling aside the rug. Jacob made no resistance, he
was not self-conscious on this point — as yet — a
little vain, rather, of the distinction between himself
and the rest of his species.

" Oh Lummy ! " remarked Sandy-hair, when
Jacob's wasted limbs were disclosed. " Don't they
look rum? I say, look," he continued, addressing
the rest of the class, who were all attention, the boys
on the far side of the table standing up in order to
get a better view. " Jus' look at his legs. Can you
feel in 'em ? " This to Jacob.

" Of course I can," replied Jacob, a little hurt at
not getting the sympathy and tenderness he always
received from strangers.

ft& JACOB STAHL

** Let 's see ! " said Sandy-hair, tittering. " 'S any-
one got a pin? "

Half-a-dozen pins were forthcoming instantly.

" What are you going to do ? " asked Jacob, a little
puzzled.

" Stick a pin into you, see if you can't feel,"
replied Sandy-hair maliciously. The other boys
giggled, keenly interested in the experiment, full of
admiration for the audacity of their ringleader.

" But you must n't ! It '11 hurt ; of course I can
feel," said Jacob querulously, still unable to believe,
however, that the threat would be carried out. Eric
never went so far as this.

"Oh, I mustn't, mustn't I?" mimicked Sandy-
hair. " Will it hurt ? Let 's see," and he advanced
the pin in the direction of Jacob's legs.

Then Jacob, beginning to be terrorized by this
bully, who seemed so big and strange to him, did the
worst thing he could have done, he made threat of
appeal to a higher power.

" If you do I shall tell Miss Nancy," he said.

*' Sneaky, sneaky custard," broke out the class in
a sing-song, subdued in tone by fear of a returning
Miss Nancy.

" Sneak, are you? " said Sandy-hair, dropping his
teasing, tentative manner, and becoming suddenly
threatening, overbearing.

" You tell Miss Nancy, that 's all, and see what
I '11 do. Hear? You do tell, that 's all."

" Go away ! " returned Jacob, " I shall tell her."

" Better not," replied Sandy-hair, and then hear-
ing a sound from the kitchen, he made a sudden dart
at Jacob's legs with the pin. Jacob hit out quickly,
open-handed like a woman, and succeeded in scratch-
ing Sandy-hair on the nose, but before further retali-
ation was possible, Miss Nancy's voice was heard in

EARLY INFLUENCES «T

the passage and the whole class instantly became ab-
sorbed in the contemplation of their lesson; Sandy-
hair back in his seat, head on hands, privately seeking
traces of blood on his nose by the application and
examination of a dirty forefinger.

But Jacob was in tears, tears that he was at no
pains to conceal, and no friction of application by the
class was able to hide their misdemeanour from the
examination that followed. Jacob was a too willing
witness. He had as yet no feeling for the school-boy
concepts of honour and manliness ; and Miss Nancy,
well-meaning, hard-working creature that she was,
had no understanding for the boys she endeavoured
to teach, and heard Jacob's whimpered story through
without interruption.

" Did you prick him, Miles .'' " she asked of Sandy-
hair at the conclusion, and the sturdy Miles replied:
" Yes, Miss Nancy," without equivocation, and
rubbed an anticipatory hand on his knickerbockers.

The cane was at the other end of the room, and the
brief interval afforded while Miss Nancy reached for
it behind the glass-fronted bureau-bookcase, was util-
ized in the extension of tongues, the making of hide-
ous grimaces, and the framing of the words " Sneaky,
sneaky custard " by the members of the class ; all
directed to Jacob, who felt a lonely, hard-used, little
outcast from his kind, and developed an urgent hatred
of all small boys, and an equally urgent desire for
mother-comfort.

Miles took his caning without a Hinch, although it
was administered with no light hand, and thereafter
signified to the remainder of the class by a covert
wink that he had not the least inclination to cry,
seeking salve for his hurt in a further application of
his tender palm to the seat of his knickerbockers.

Jacob, refusing to be comforted, was sent home

S8 JACOB STAHL

early in charge of the Scotch governess, who sought
to inspire him with ideals of manliness in her own
rough, hardy way — without effect.

It was not the physical hurt that had reduced
Jacob to those hysterical tears, and it was only his
mother who could comfort that wound to his childish
vanity, that check to his natural anticipation of love
and sympathy that he had always been led to expect
as a natural right.

CHAPTER m

HESTES
1.

The first great Influence In Jacob's life was an In-
truding mouse, the second, which was not exerted till
nearly fourteen years later, was a misinterred spar-
row, which in its death became a plague.

It was Pennyfather with the bent for prognosis,
now growing grey in the service, who first instigated
the search for the body.

" Unquestionably a case of typhoid," he remarked
to the husband of his patient, " and the only one in
the neighbourhood. You ought to have your drains
seen to."

" It ain't the drains," replied Hermann, with con-
fidence, " they were done a few months back, before
I took on a new lease. Vereker 's my landlord, and I
made him overhaul the place before I 'd take it on
again. I 've been here fifteen years, now, and he
did n't want to lose a good tenant. Oh ! no, it ain't
drains, you can gamble on that ! "

" What about the water ? " asked the doctor. " Do
you keep the cistern clean.'' "

" Cistern 's new," said Hermann. " We scrapped
the old one in March, when the house was done. Come
up and see for yourself."

The new cistern proved rather inaccessible, but
when at last the two men had scrambled through the
trap-door, and made their way across the celling joists
into the far corner of the roof, they were assailed by

30 JACOB STAHL

an odour that did not speak well for the cleanliness
of the water.

" Rum thing," remarked Hermann, peering down
into the dark recesses of the new cistern, " stinks,
don't it? "

The doctor assented, holding his nose, as he, too,
tried to see the smell in the black water of the half-
filled cistern.

" Don't have a constant supply," said Hermann,
indicating the pendant ball-cock which dripped slowly
and mournfully into the water below. " The water
gets run right off sometimes. I 'U get a light."

" I 've told 'em to draw the water off," he an-
nounced, when he returned a few minutes later with a
candle, " they 're saving some in buckets, and it comes
on again at six. We '11 get to the bottom of this.
'Struth, it does stink."

There was a fascination in watching the sinking
water and the two men kept returning to the corner,
despite the obnoxious smell that seemed to grow in
intensity as the water fell.

" Something there ! " says Hermann, when he was
able at last to stand his candle on the floor of the cis-
tern, from which the water was rapidly receding, and
they watched the something that dragged with the
ebbing water in the direction of the outlet pipe.

" Damned if it is n't a blasted bird ! " said Her-
mann with sudden conviction as he examined, at a re-
spectful distance, the sodden mass of decomposition.

" Phew ! Yes. Undoubtedly a bird. Phew ! " as-
sented the doctor, and the two beat a retreat.

" Chuck that water away, it 's rotten," commanded
Hermann when they got downstairs, and later, " I '11
have a man in to clean out that cistern thoroughly —
wonder how the brute got in.'' Well, doctor, no one's
fault, eh ? But we have got at the cause, that 's one

HESTER 31

comfort. It 's a blessing we 're not all down. I '11 get
a man in to clean the cistern at once. I suppose it
ought to be disinfected.'' All right, I '11 see to that."
And he did see to it at once. Quite a practical man in
some ways, Hermann Stahl.

The location and abolition of the prime cause of
the trouble and the purifying of the infected pipes
did not, however, materially conduce to the recovery
of Mrs. Stahl.

It was considered advisable to send away both the
boys, and Eric found a place as a temporary boarder
at the College, while Jacob was accommodated at the
Miss Parrys'.

It was Jacob who was most affected. He was very
helpless at that age, mentally as well as physically.
He lacked power of initiative, and was unable to for-
mulate, much less to grapple with, any idea of change.

Meanwhile a new force was coming into his life, a
force that was destined to effect a great change in his
whole manner of living. The name of this force was
Hester Stahl, Hermann's sister, who came at her
brother's appeal to nurse her sister-in-law, and man-
age the house.

Otto Stahl had been dead two years. After his
death Hester had found herself provided with no more
than an income of £150 a year, for the business of
Myers and Stahl had not prospered too well in its
later days, and old Otto had been living on his capital
in order to keep up the house in Bedford Square.
Hester, when she found herself practically alone in the
world, had elected to live in the country, and had
taken a cottage in a small village in the Eastern Mid-
lands. She and her brother had corresponded at long

S2 JACOB STAHL

intervals, but there had never been any real sympathy
between them, and it was in desperation that Hermann
had written and appealed to her for help in his dis-
tress. He had certainly been in a serious difficulty,
his house upset, himself kept away from business in
order to attend to things, and, worst of all to him,
all sorts of horrible extra charges to be met on every
side, Eric's board, Jacob's board, nurses, doctors,
Heaven knows what! To do him justice, however,
Hermann had done everything in his power to save
his wife, and it had been the thought of his sis-
ter's shrewd common sense and her gift for manage-
ment that had influenced him to beg her assistance.
He had felt that her presence in the house would, in
itself, go a long way towards assisting his wife's
recovery.

Hester first saw Jacob In Miss Parry's drawing-
room. She had heard something of him from her
brother, but had no very definite idea as to the nature
or cause of his weakness.

Miss Janet introduced them, but Hester found that
lady's praises of Jacob too highly sweetened, and soon
asked in her blunt, straightforward way to be left
alone with her nephew.

" I want you to tell me all about this," said Hester,
laying her hand on the rug that covered Jacob's legs.
"May I see?"

Jacob willingly assented, the strength and self-con-
fidence of this new aunt appealed to him, he felt,
already, that here was someone to whom he could look
for support, and at this period of his life support was
what he most needed.

" They 're only weak," he explained, " but I can

HESTER 38

waggle my toes and I can draw them up, like this, only
they 're not strong enough for me to stand on."

" What did the doctor say about them? " inquired
Hester, and Jacob gave her a fairly accurate account
of Mordaunt Stone's opinion and prescription.

" And do you use the machine, or whatever you call
it? " was Hester's practical comment.

" Oh yes," replied Jacob eagerly, " I go about in
it everywhere, only I can't push with my legs, you
know, they 're not strong enough."

" And never will be, if you don't use them," said
Hester. " Have n't you ever tried any exercises ;
little exercises to develop the muscles ? "

" Oh yes," assented Jacob, " but they made me
rather tired."

" And you did n't stick to them? "

" It did n't seem worth the bother," remarked
Jacob, and Hester began to see where the trouble
lay. She saw the boy lacking in initiative and steadi-
ness of purpose, and the well-meaning but careless
mother so easily persuaded into relaxing any effort
she had set herself to make.

" I 'm going to take you in hand, Jackie," said
Hester. " We '11 soon have you on your legs."

" You '11 have to make me do it," replied Jacob,
showing that he, too, had some understanding of
the difficulty.

" Make you ? " questioned Hester. " Don't you
want to be able to walk? "

" Oh yes, rather," returned Jacob. "Of course I do ;
I often think about it, only it takes so long and it is
such a bother, and it never seems to do any good."

Hester was not quite clever enough to guess how
Jacob's imagination, running ahead of his actions,
was in itself a deterrent from any continuity of pur-
pose, but at least she grasped the main fact that he

»4 JACOB STAHL

needed a firm hand and close supervision, and these
she intended to supply. As postponement was no
part of her policy, she set about her purpose without
delay by making a closer examination of Jacob's
limbs.

" Now," she said, when she had partly undressed
him and seated him on the sofa with his legs hanging.
" Can you kick my hand? "

Jacob succeeded in reaching the hand placed a
few inches in front of his toes, but he did it by re-
tracting his legs and letting them swing forward,
an action which did not utilize the atrophied exten-
sors, the real source of his weakness.

Hester did not realize this, and exclaimed, " Oh !
but you can use them quite a lot. Are you sure you
could n't stand if you tried hard? "

" That — that was n't quite fair, really," stam-
mered Jacob, who had a moderately clear comprehen-
sion of the true state of affairs, " I did n't kick, then,
properly, I just let 'em swing. I can pull 'em up,
you know, only I can't kick 'em out, not without
swinging."

It was Hester's first lesson in physiology, but she
was an apt pupil, quick to grasp essentials. Jacob
had given himself away, already, and his aunt had no
intention of allowing him to shirk.

" Try again, then," she said, and this time Jacob
played fair and the effort to reach her hand proved
abortive. Still there was a slight, almost impercep-
tible, forward movement of the leg from the knee
downward, and under cross-examination Jacob ad-
mitted that he oould feel a " sort of tweak " in the
shrunken muscles of his thigh.

This is as far as they went that morning, for Miss
Janet returned and was rather shocked to find a
little boy with bare legs in her drawing-room.

HESTER 85

4.

In the intervals of nursing her sister-in-law, in
itself no light task, and of managing her brother's
house, Hester managed to spend at least one hour
every day with her younger nephew, and the whole
of this time she devoted to enforcing the practice of
exercises.

For Mrs. Stahl this task had been an impossible
one. That imaginative temperament of hers which
had descended in a large part to Jacob could not
brook the lack of encouragement. To do a thing day
after day and see no result, receive no inspiring sign
of improvement, was not possible for her, and added
to this primary inability, she had had to contend
with an opposition from her son arising from the
same attitude of mind that she herself brought to the
solution of the problem.

It was on the fifth day of her ministrations to
Jacob that Hester first encountered the real diffi-
culty which beset her.

Jacob was seated in the dormitory, his legs hang-
ing down, a wooden box under the bed behind his
heels to prevent him from resorting to the unfair
practice of swinging, and Hester was kneeling by him,
assisting the awakening of power in his muscles by a
primitive form of massage.

" I don't think I can do much this morning," re-
marked Jacob. " I feel rather tired, and I can't feel
the muscles at all when I 'm tired."

He was bored with the performance already, the
excitement of a new experiment had not been main-
tained by any prospect of success. The exhilaration
of mind, the stimulus provided by the new hope in-
stilled by his aunt's steadiness of purpose had died
down. He saw this new treatment following the lines

86 JACOB STAHL

he knew so well. It had become a bother, why worry
about it, after all he was quite happy as he was.

" I am sorry you feel tired, dear," said Hester,
*' but I can't come to you at any other time, so you
must try and do your best now."

" It is n't any good, Aunt Hester," persisted Jacob,
*' I 'm sure it is n't any good, I can't kick a little bit
better now than I could the first day ; not a little bit."

" Going to give up after five days .'' " returned
Hester. " That 's not the sort of stuff men are made
of. You must stick to things, Jackie, go on, and on,
and on, with them or you '11 never succeed."

" Yes, I know. Auntie," said Jacob, " only it 's no
good going on, and on, and on, with a thing that 's
hopeless, is it.'* "

This was the point at which Mrs. Stahl had always
failed. Her boy's mind affected her own, she saw
things from his point of view, began to feel that he
was right, that it was hopeless this effort of theirs
to put Jacob on his feet, and so, weakly fighting her
own inclination to let things slide, she gradually gave
in, and she and Jacob were happy together — telling
each other stories of what they would do when he was
miraculously cured.

On the other hand Hester could not have succeeded
if she had adopted an attitude which may be taken as
being exactly the reverse of Mrs. Stahl's, that is to
say if she had merely insisted by reiterated command
on the continuation of the exercises. In that curious
balance of forces known to us as a human being, the
powers of impulse and conduct are so inextricably
involved that to neglect the former was, in Jacob's
case, to court certain failure. The attitude of mind in
which he set about his exercises was an essential factor
in the problem. Hester Stahl was unimaginative —
for a woman — her knowledge of psychology in rela-

HESTER 87

tion to physiology, or in fact in any relation, was
almost nil, yet by that intuition common to women —
an intuition that becomes genius when allied to a
clear reasoning power — she understood that Jacob
must be encouraged to do his exercises, not driven ;
and she set herself to instil into him the hope and
enthusiasm that had not been kindled hitherto by any
material sign of improvement in his condition.

Her encouragement took two forms. One was a
magical eye for improvement. Hester, the unimagi-
native, became suddenly endowed with extraordinary
powers of seeing the things that were not. Was
Jacob able to move his legs the smallest fraction of
an inch more than he did yesterday, Hester became
exuberantly cheerful at the rapidity of his progress,
dilated on it, exaggerated its significance, and con-
fidently prophesied a complete cure. The other form
of encouragement came into play when Jacob was at
his worst, when his despondent mind exercised no
influence on his dilatory muscles, and the slight im-
provement of yesterday had been turned into an
apparent retrogression. Then Hester was full of
plans and thoughts for the future, a constructor of
pictures, exciting the boy's imagination with ideals
of physical completeness. And Jacob reacted under
her influence until energy and purpose returned.
After such mornings as these, it was Hester who was
tired rather than her patient.

But at the end of three weeks there came a check
to the exercises, for a few days they were forgotten.
By Jacob everything was forgotten, save the one
fact that he had lost his mother.

88 JACOB STAHL

5.

It was all unexpected. Mrs. Stahl had apparently
been on the highroad to recovery, and her prog-
nostic medical adviser had been confidently indulging
himself in a very revel of cheerful anticipations.
Then had come a sudden, alarming relapse, and
within a few hours Mrs. Stahl was dead. Medical
details are of no further interest, though Hermann,
struggling in an abyss of grief and confusion, vainly
reiterated : " I can't understand it. She was going on
so well — you said. What could have happened.'' "

Pennyfather saw a suspicion of his incompetence
in Hermann's eye, and forced his reluctant mind to
a tardy diagnosis, but Hermann gleaned no comfort
from half-caught medical terms, " ulceration of the
intestines, — probably developed into an abscess —
perforation, the ultimate cause," — and so re-
turned to his original position with : " Well, I can't
understand it. You said she was going on so
well."

But It was Jacob who suffered most, because he
had the greatest capacity, and because he could not
understand that his mother was dead.

He had been kept away from the contagion for
five weeks, longing always for the time when his
mother would be well enough to see him again — a
time that was always near at hand — and at the last
Hester thought it mere cruelty to bring the boy to
the side of the unconscious, dying woman.

To Hester fell the task of breaking the news, a
task she would not delegate, for already Jacob had
become to her the dearest thing in the world, and she
performed her task resolutely and well. She had
been up all night, but she went to Jacob at the usual
time, began his exercises as if there were nothing

HESTER 89

amiss, and replied to his usual questions about his
mother by saying that she was better.

" Shall I be able to see her soon ? " he asked, and
she hesitated before she answered.

" Not just yet, dear."

" But why not ? Why can't I see her soon if she
is better? "

" She has been so ill," said Hester, " and she
must go away — perhaps for quite a long, long
time."

"Oh! but why can't I go with her?" asked
Jacob.

" You must make up your mind that things won't
be quite the same again," said Hester, seeking some
way of reconciling the boy's mind to the thought of
separation. " You must n't expect now to be with
mother as you used to be."

Jacob, racking his brain for an explanation and
finding none, fell back on his perpetual " Why, why ? "
and Hester physically worn out, and strained ner-
vously almost to the breaking-point, was hard put to
it to repress her irritation against that unanswerable
monosyllable.

" You will learn why in time, Jackie. I want you
to come down into the country with me — to my
cottage. Wouldn't you like that?"

" Oh yes, rather. When? Soon? Why could n't
mother come too? That would be jolly," replied
Jacob, and then added " Could n't she ? " so eagerly
that Hester found her task harder than ever.

Something of her misery showed itself in her dear,
plain face, for Jacob asked her why she was so sad
this morning; it was a new experience for him to see
Aunt Hester depressed.

" There is a good deal of sadness in the world,
Jackie," she answered, " only it 's no use making a

40 JACOB STAHL

fuss about it and thinking oneself ill-used. I think
sometimes that the people who make the most of their
troubles, do not know what trouble really means, and
make a big pretence to cover their own lack of feeling.
If I did look sad, it was because I was sorry for
you. Not because of this," she went on, touching his
skeleton limbs ; " we are going to cure that, but be-
cause you will have to make up your mind to endure
a great sorrow."

There was a solemnity in Hester's tone which
chilled Jacob and conveyed to him the first thought
of apprehension. "What?" he asked, puzzled and
half fearful. " What is it? What 's the matter? "

" Jackie dear," said Hester, putting a protecting
arm round him, " do you think you could bear it, if
you did n't see mother again for quite a long time ?
If you came to live with me in the country? "

" I should like to come and live with you,"
replied Jacob after a short silence. *' I don't like
being here very much — but why can't mother come
too?"

And still Hester did not tell him the whole cruel
truth. She persisted, with a wonderful patience, in
preparing his mind for the thought of separation,
before telling him how long that separation would be.
Her task was made somewhat easier by the fact that
the boy had not seen his mother for some weeks, and,
with the elasticity of youth, had already adapted him-
self in some measure to new circumstances. Never-
theless Hester had to soften the blow to that warm
living hope of a speedy return to the confidence and
companionship that had made life something more
than endurable to Jacob, and she understood that the
blow could only be softened by substituting a new con-
solation for the old one.

So, while she continually recurred to that note of

HESTER 41

foreboding, she alternated with it a note of new
mother comfort, and lingered over her descriptions
of the new life she and Jacob would hve together.

When the truth came at last, Jacob was not
conscious of any shock. He felt that he had
known it before, although incapable of putting it
into words, and he nestled close to Hester, conscious
only of the wish that she should not go away from
him.

Hester neglected many important duties, and
stayed with him until late in the afternoon, for she
felt that of all the many things she had to do, to
comfort and console this boy was the thing best
worth doing.

She did not absolve herself entirely from the charge
of selfishness; she knew that she had had no happi-
ness in her life equal to this of finding some object
upon which to spend her love, but she was not
troubled by any weighing of her own motives. Hester
was too self-confident, too clear-sighted, too healthy-
minded to indulge in any morbid analysis of her own
character. Her method was always to take the path
which seemed to her the most direct and profitable;
and when her choice was proved to be ill-advised, she
profited by the lesson learned, but wasted no time on
regrets.

When Hester left him at last, Jacob still found
consolation. Everyone made much of him, and the
small boarders regarded him with admiration. Any
sense of loss or loneliness was made almost pleasant
by the excess of sympathy and consideration, and
Jacob fell asleep, a happy martyr. The setting had
been supplied, he unconsciously took his note from
those around him, and played the part he was ex-
pected to play.

But in the night he dreamed of his mother, and

42 JACOB STAHL

when he awoke the bitter tears, the desperate long-
ing, the agony of desire for her presence, were all
intensely real ; and the reality stayed with him, until
Hester took him away, ten days later, to live with
her in the little village of Ashby Sutton.

CHAPTER IV

THE PROCESS OF THE MIKACLE
1.

Some lives fall naturally into periods, and one stage
is definitely separable from another in retrospect by
some marked difference in residence, companionship,
or occupation that has affected the mode of life and
of thought. Other lives remain unaffected by change,
their continuity is never broken, differences of living
and companionship have little or no influence on their
character. The cause of the distinction lies in the
amount of susceptibility to influence and in the power
of adaptation to circumstance, possessed by him or
her whose life is acted upon. Enough has been said
to show that the character of Jacob Stahl was essen-
tially one that must be classified as being susceptible
to influence, whilst that of his brother, Eric, furnishes
an example of character that determines its own cir-
cumstance, is independent of influence or support.

The second stage of Jacob's life began when he
went to live with Hester Stahl in her cottage at
Ashby Sutton. It is a stage that had the greatest
determining influence on his life, yet the incidents of
the first five years were few.

Hester had seen but one difficulty in the way of her
proposal to adopt Jacob, the difficulty of providing
him with an education. Her own income of £150 a
year, though ample for her simple needs, and suffi-
cient to provide maintenance for herself and Jacob,
was not enough to cover the expenses of an education

44 JACOB STAHL

such as she desired for her nephew. She therefore
tackled her brother, anticipating a curt refusal, but
determined nevertheless to stick to her point. Her-
mann, however, proved quite amenable, and admitted
his liability without discussion. It was decided be-
tween them that an allowance of £100 a year should
be paid to Hester as Jacob's guardian, and Hermann
did not even suggest that an account should be ren-
dered by his sister. One is apt to judge Hermann
Stahl harshly; inclined to seek reasons for any act
of apparent generosity on his part, and certainly in
this case there were many inducements to be urged
for providing his invalid son with a home in the
country ; there were possible even ultimate savings
to be effected by thus ridding himself of responsibil-
ity for the sum of a hundred pounds a year. At the
same time it should be remembered that Hermann was
genuinely distressed by the loss of his wife, and it is
exceedingly probable that he wished to do all in his
power for that son to whom his wife had been so
devoted. The last two years of Hermann Stahl's Hfe
were not happy ones ; we may prefer to believe that
his conscience was clear as to the provision he had
made for Jacob, to believe that it was an act of gen-
erosity unalloyed by any petty considerations.

It remained for Hester to find a means of spend-
ing a part of Jacob's allowance to the best advan-
tage, and on her return she consulted the rector of
Ashby Sutton, the nearest reliable authority on the
subject.

Peter Fearon, the rector in question, found an ad-
mirable way out of the difficulty, a way that inciden-
tally assisted him to solve a little problem of his own.
Fearon was an Irishman from the North, a man of
some ability, but his ability was not of a kind to win
him distinction in the Church. He may perhaps be

THE PROCESS OF THE MIRACLE 45

counted lucky In having been given a living, — worth
between three and four hundred a year, — by a com-
patriot bishop ; but an Irish wife and a family of
seven children — the eldest eleven years old — were
sufficient counteractions to over-indulgence.

When consulted by Hester with regard to Jacob's
education, Fear on immediately grasped the possibili-
ties of the scheme.

" It seems to me. Miss Stahl," he said, " that
you 're by way of being in rather a difficult position.
You say the lad can't walk a step, and you can't
therefore send him to school in the ordinary way.
On the other hand, you tell me that you can't afford
more than £60 a year, which will hardly be sufficient
to provide you with a private tutor. And yet you
wish him to have a sound education, you say? "

" It is difficult, I know," replied Hester, who had
not caught the rector's drift, as yet.

" I was thinking," continued Fearon, " if there was
no one you could send him to. Hopkins at Shenning-
ton, now, takes pupils, but that 's seven miles ; too
far to go — and Hopkins looks for more than you 're
giving in the case of a resident pupil. But, anyway,
you want to keep the lad at home in order to look
after him, I understand."

Hester nodded ; the suggestion of " Hopkins at
Shennington " had given her the clue she wanted.
" What are you doing with your own boys ? " she
asked.

" Well, I was just thinking of that," returned the
rector. " I 've been obliged to teach them, myself,
up to the present, but I 'm thinking now of sending
Feargus to the King's School. He 's only ten, but
he 'd be better with other boys. There 's three girls
between him and Colin, and he wants playmates.
Now, ye see," continued the rector laughing, " I '11

46 JACOB STAHL

be frank with you. It 's just this way. If I could
take your nephew myself — I could send my own boy
to school, and if I could send Feargus to school, I
could take your nephew. It just fits in like the
pieces of a puzzle — only, to tell you the truth, I 'm
just wondering whether I 'm worth the money you 're
offerin'."

Hester, however, had no doubts upon this ques-
tion. She had come to the rector with no definite
plan in her mind, but the moment that the suggestion
of Fearon's tutorship was made, she saw in it a prac-
tical and satisfactory solution of her difficulty.

Jacob's hours of tuition were not lengthy. As
originally agreed, they were from ten to one in the
morning, and from three to five in the afternoon, but
the morning lessons were continually interrupted, and
that in the afternoon was not as a rule overlooked.

Ashby Sutton was a parish of some seven hundred
souls, and their claims could not be entirely neglected.

Fearon's conception of his tutorial duties was a
high one, but he continually fell below his own stand-
ard. As a consequence Jacob's tuition exhibited
every phase of application on the part of his in-
structor, passing from the rigorous and conscientious
attention that usually marked Fearon's attitude on
Monday morning, to the careless and absent-minded
distraction that continually resulted from the mani-
fold cares attendant upon his duties as the head of a
difficult and dependent household, and — upon occa-
sion — from his duties as a priest.

A good fellow this rector, but much afflicted by
family responsibilities, some conscience — and a
temperament.

Jacob was responsive to the mood of his tutor,
attentive or idle according to the temper of the day,
occasionally making some effort to work on his own

THE PROCESS OF THE MIRACLE 47

account when discipline was relaxed, but most often
idling, trifling with a book that was no part of his
work, some book introduced surreptitiously or bor-
rowed from his tutor's store of fiction.

Yet he assimilated some learning. His knowledge
was not specialized, there was no subject in which
he was well grounded, his Latin was weak and his
Greek contemptible, his mathematics never reached
the calculus, his history and geography — subjects
that did not interest him in his youth — would have
disgraced the fifth standard of any Board School, his
French exhibited the characteristics usual to English
teaching, yet Jacob passed as a clever boy. He pro-
duced the effect of knowing more than he did. It can
hardly be said that he deceived his aunt and his tutor,
yet the result of his attitude was a misconception as
to the amount of his learning.

There is no need to labour this point, yet it is so
typical not only of the boy, but also of the man, that
some mention must be made of it. Perhaps the truth
of the matter is that Jacob was clever, inasmuch as
he had an apprehensive and distinctive mind, quick
to seize knowledge and appreciate its value; a mind
capable of a measure of concentration, analytic up to
a point, above all — introspective. As an illustra-
tion of the first two faculties it may be mentioned that
after three years' instruction he was able almost to
hold his own with Fearon at chess, and Fearon had a
mathematical turn and was a fair player.

One other factor of Jacob's youth must be dealt
with historically, before representing the incidents
and development of his career, a factor this, of su-
preme importance, to wit, the use of his legs.

48 JACOB STAHL

2.

The indefatigable Hester took the whole burden of
his care upon her shoulders, from the time Jacob
came to Ashby Sutton. She allowed no relaxation of
discipline, no shirking, no postponement. Yet with
all her firmness she avoided any appearance of the
dictatorial manner that might have made her minis-
trations an irksome necessity.

Her task was brightened by the sudden improve-
ment that began to show itself soon after the change
of surroundings. This may have been due to more
healthy air and food of the country, or it may have
been the result of the work she had already expended
at Heme Hill. Whatever the cause, the results began
to be evident before Jacob had been a week in the
country. It was a joyful occasion, that on which it
could be agreed with glorious certainty between them
that Jacob was positively regaining the use of his
thigh muscles.

" Aunt Hester," said Jacob one morning in a high
state of excitement, " I can really kick a little, look,"
and he succeeded in agitating the lower half of his
legs to the extent of more than an inch. " I know it
does n't look much," he went on, " but I can feel an
awful difference, I feel I can do it. I can feel the
muscles doing what I want. Do you know what I
mean.'' "

Hester did know, or pretended she did, but she
exhibited a certain caution ; not that her own hopes
were not high, but because she saw Jacob already
eager to enter for a walking race, and she knew how
long would be the progress of revitalizing and devel-
oping these wasted limbs.

Jacob was incapable of restraint that day, he kicked
diligently, if surreptitiously, throughout liis morning

THE PROCESS OF THE MIRACLE 49

lessons, could hardly be constrained to lie down after
lunch, and was all eagerness to continue his usual
exercises after tea. As a result there was a slight
reaction next day — chiefly mental — that only Hes-
ter's inspiriting influence could prevent from be-
coming a fit of depression. But the enthusiasm soon
returned, and faith in the ultimate success of the rem-
edy begot a frame of mind eminently conducive to the
desired result. Still it was Hester who was respon-
sible. Left to himself, even at this stage, Jacob would
have relapsed through sheer inertia ; incapable, with-
out assistance, of sustained effort.

Progress was rapid at first. In a few weeks Jacob
was able almost to straighten his legs, but there im-
provement hesitated for a time ; he could n't walk, he
could n't stand without assistance, and Hester saw evi-
dence that tendons had contracted, the heels were
raised, the knees always a little bent. Jacob, too, re-
tarded his own recovery by being over-anxious, an-
other symptom of the same conditions that had earlier
led to his despondency. The machine had been
brought into requisition again on new terms which
forbade the use of the hands for any purpose but that
of steering, and Jacob, when left to himself, would
overtire himself by his dihgence in working it up and
down the level stretch of road in front of the cottage.
The important point of diet was one that was not
neglected at this time. Hester fed her patient with
meat and strengthening foods, backed by an abundant
supply of milk.

At the end of a year Jacob could walk in some
fashion with the help of two sticks, but it was a very
travesty of human ambulation. The unpractised
muscles of the foot, the imperfect control of the thigh
muscles, contracted tendons, the failure to co-ordinate
the whole, all mihtated against that attainment of

50 JACOB STAHL

poise necessary to the maintenance of the upright
position. Jacob tumbled rather than walked along,
his body bent forward, his wobbly legs never straight-
ened, swaying dangerously every time his sticks were
lifted in order to make advance.

It came to Hester one day after watching the boy's
maimed efforts that she had reached the limits of her
capacity. Something she had done for this body of
his, but its improvement beyond the point attained,
was outside the scope of her powers. She understood
that she must call in a more expert authority, for she
was determined that Jacob should not only walk, but
should walk as other men. With this object in view
she took the advice, as a preliminary measure, of the
chief surgeon of the Infirmary at Pelsworthy, the
nearest town, a man of much discrimination, who,
after a searching examination of Jacob, opined that
the case might be permanently cured, and advised her
to take the patient to Sir Anthony Broadstone of the
Orthopaedic Hospital in London. As a result of
the consultation with this authority, Jacob had to
undergo various operations that kept him and Hester
in London for many weeks, and made severe demands
on Hester's savings. Thereafter Jacob was furnished
with expensive instruments designed to keep his legs
straight laterally, and to prevent the tendons from
again contracting, and further he was prescribed a
new and very elaborate set of exercises that were first
learned in a medical gymnasium off Oxford Street,
and afterwards practised diligently in the cottage by
means of a complete set of apparatus especially pur-
chased for their performance ; Hester, as usual, super-
vising and enforcing that thoroughness and attention
to detail which commands success in all intricate and
involved operations.

For two years after the cutting of his tendons — ?

THE PROCESS OF THE MIRACLE 51

that is, until he was seventeen — Jacob was compelled
to wear steel splints, and to walk with crutches. Dur-
ing these years he had to develop his leg muscles for
two hours — divided into four exercises of half an
hour each — every day, and, in addition, to practise
walking exercises with the help of crutches or sticks,
designed to instruct him in the proper usage of his
limbs, and to familiarize him with that difficult art of
balancing, an art so easily acquired in babyhood, but
so difficult when neglected for the first fifteen years of
life.

At seventeen he walked without splints, and with
the help of one stick. His shoulders, arms, chest, and
trunk were, even at this age, finely developed, but his
legs were noticeably thin and weak, and too short for
the length of his body. He had trouble, too, at times
with his joints, hips, knees, and ankles: for disuse of
functions often brings an even greater penalty than
their misuse. These troubles, however, tended to dim-
inish as he grew older, though he was never able to
walk long distances or to stand for any length of time
without considerable fatigue and some revival of those
pains in his joints.

Jacob was always in some sense a lame man, his
muscles refused to be developed beyond a certain
point, and, as a consequence, you saw when he en-
tered a room, that there was something wrong with
his walk, something that made women feel sorry for
him.

He always had some look of the martyr in his face,
he was naturally pale, his features were finely cut,
rather ascetic, and those gentle, expressive eyes of his
seemed to call for sympathy. But he is not to be
pitied, he does not even deserve sympathy. His lame-
ness was no drawback to him, it did not hamper him
in the life he led, his pallor was due not to ill-health

SSt JACOB STAHL

but to the texture of his skin, that look of suffering
was the result of his childhood's experience, it did not
express his thought, his real feeling; it was no indi-
cation of mental or physical trouble.

8.

It becomes necessary to finish this account of the
earlier years of Jacob Stahl, by making some refer-
ence to the settlement of his financial position and that
of his brother.

Hermann, after his wife's death, began to degener-
ate very rapidly. His bent had always been in that
direction, and now the last restraint was removed;
however feeble the check may have been, it had always
exercised some influence on the inhibition of his nat-
ural tendencies.

Eric was sent to the College as a boarder; his
holidays were spent with his aunt and younger
brother at Ashby Sutton. Hermann, thus freed from
all domestic responsibilities, sold the remainder of the
lease of his Camberwell house — he did not lose by
the transaction — and lived entirely in commercial
hotels, a mode of life to which he was well accustomed,
and one that admirably suited his temperament. He
had saved money, — his income for the past fifteen
years had never fallen below £800, — but he still
stuck to his work, not because he liked it, but because
he would have been miserable if his savings had not
been accumulating.

But at the end of six months his excesses in a cer-
tain direction were suddenly interrupted. Hermann
had to undergo a serious operation, and was ill for
many weeks. When he returned to business, he found
his one source of excitement and interest taken from
him, and life soon became unendurable without a sub-

THE PROCESS OF THE MIRACLE 53

stitute. This substitute he found in alcohol, and sub-
mitting himself feebly to his new master, he drank
himself to death in eighteen months.

During the last year of his life he gave up his busi-
ness entirely, for the drug seemed to develop his latent
sluggishness of disposition, and his money-grubbing
propensities were afterwards exhibited only in small
acts of meanness and cheating. If he had lived a few
more years it is probable that he would have dissi-
pated entirely the capital he had saved, for the desire
for alcohol soon overpowered any other spring of
action, and drove him to expenditure that horrified
him in his rare moments of sobriety.

At the end of it all, however, he bequeathed some-
thing short of £5,000 to his sons, £500 went to Eric,
for the completion of his education — Eric was then
seventeen and had won an open scholarship at Caius,
which he afterwards bettered by an exhibition at Trin-
ity — the remainder to Jacob. There was a justice in
this act that must be entered to Hermann's credit,
for Eric had been his favourite son. Hermann had
a dislike for the physically unfit that he could not
overcome. This legacy of Jacob's, after paying duty
and settling his father's affairs, was invested in " trus-
tee " stock, and brought him in an income of just over
£120 a year, but the capital was entirely at his own
command, although it was managed by Hester so long
as Jacob remained in her charge.

One word as to Eric at this point of his history.
We find him, despite his self-confidence, rather re-
sentful of his father's will, for he knew the value of
money, and had the capacity to use it to advantage.
This resentment of his made itself apparent during
the Christmas holidays spent at Ashby Sutton, the
first holiday after Hermann's death. The two
brothers had little in common, but this inheritance

64 JACOB STAHL

served to thrust them even further apart. Eric
bullied Jacob intellectually at this time, continually
cross-examining him as to his scholastic attainments,
and making a jest of his ignorance. Jacob resented
this intensely, for he had begun to show a pedantic
vanity, airing his scraps of knowledge for the benefit
of Hester, and thoroughly appreciating the meed of
her admiration. As a consequence the household was
divided and uneasy, and it was a relief to Hester and
Jacob when Eric returned to school at the end of
January. The money was a passing influence, the
breach between the brothers was, fundamentally, one
of temperament.

CHAPTER V

THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION
1.

"Why not an architect, James?" remarked Eric.
The name comes by a natural process, thus, Jacob —
Jacobus — James ; a sequence suggested as a form
of facetiousness by Eric, who occasionally used the
complete expression.

The question arose from a discussion as to the
choice of a profession for Jacob, a problem that so
far had failed to yield any solution.

Both Hester and the rector saw in Jacob an ideal
curate, and their influence had been mildly exerted
to create in him an aspiration for the taking of Holy
Orders, but Jacob had no desire to assume the office
of a priest. He had a full share of obstinacy if he
lacked determination — his powers of resistance were
greater than his capacity for initiative.

In this matter of entering the Church, Jacob's real
objection lay in the desire for freedom. Although
but dimly conscious of this himself, he feared the ob-
ligations of a perpetual duty, a conception of the
demands of the priesthood that haunted his imagi-
nation. He had before him the example of Peter
Fearon, a man perpetually tormented by conscience
for not living up to his own standard, and Jacob felt
that his own standard must needs be an even higher
one than Fearon's. Jacob had strong religious ten-
dencies at this time, but they were manifested as a
condition of mind rather than as a standard of

66 JACOB STAHL

morals, they were emotional rather than practical.
Thus he glorified the duties of the priest, but feared
to face the practice.

The participants in the present discussion were
Jacob, Hester, and Eric, who was spending the latter
half of his second long vacation with his aunt and
brother at Ashby Sutton.

" An architect? " repeated Hester. " Would n't
that mean he would have to go up ladders and walk
about scaffoldings? "

Jacob, according to his usual practice, was think-
ing out the proposition by the application of his
own mind, without regard to experience or previous
knowledge.

" I don't believe," he continued, disregarding Hes-
ter's objections, " that I could possibly design a
house. I have n't the least idea how to do it."

" Well, do you suppose anyone — with the remark-
able exception of Martin Chuzzlewit — ever did or
could design a house or any other complicated affair
without having studied the principles? " asked Eric
with a sneer.

" I suppose there are rules you would learn," said
Jacob, still analyzing, " but I have n't the least gift
for building things like houses in my mind, the de-
tail worries me."

" You 're very handy with your pencil," interpo-
lated Hester.

" Have you got a gift for doing anything with
your mind? " asked Eric.

Jacob paused, Eric's bullying superiority always
crushed and depressed him.

" Oh ! I don't know," was his answer to his
brother's question. " You never think I can do any-
thing. You 're worse than ever now you 're at
College."

THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION 67

" One does n't say * at College,' " remarked Eric
casually ; " you 're very provincial, James."

" Well, what do you say? "

" The whole purport of the sentence was rather
childish," returned Eric, " but the expression * at
College ' is horrible in any connection. You might
say ' at Trinity ' or even ' at Cambridge,' if you want
to be colloquial."

Jacob was continually being dropped on by Eric
for such faults of speech as this, and, if he resented
the manner of the correction at the time, he did not
forget the lesson. It took time to learn avoidance of
stilted and provincial phrases, but he was imitative
in these things, and had, moreover, an instinct for
adopting the right forms of speech. Thanks to
Fearon and Eric, he had no accent.

" Oh ! never mind that ! " broke in Hester.
** What about architecture as a profession.? We 've
never thought about it before."

" Well, what of the scaffold and ladder difficulty? "
asked Eric. " I had n't thought of that."

" That 's no difficulty," said Jacob, who had a
conceit of his own agility. " I 'm all right so long
as I can get my hands on to anything. I don't know
that architecture 's such a bad idea. How do you
begin.'' "

" Get articled to an architect, I suppose," sug-
gested Eric.

" There 's Mr. Baker at Pelsworthy," said Hester ;
*' he 's quite in a big way, I believe. We might ask
him."

As a result of this discussion Mr. Baker was
consulted.

68 JACOB STAHL

2.

Mr. Henry Baker was a short, stout man, with an
intellectual head, and a fussy manner that covered a
nervousness he had never been able to conquer. After
an exchange of letters, there was an interview be-
tween him, Hester, and Jacob, followed in due time
by the signing of articles, an operation that con-
ferred upon Jacob all the privileges appertaining to
the use of Mr. Baker's office, and to the study and
imitation of Mr. Baker's methods, for which benefit
Hester as Jacob's guardian was content to pay an
immediate premium of £50, and to hold herself re-
sponsible in two further sums of £25 each, to be paid
at intervals of twelve months. And thus Jacob was
formally indentured for a term of three years.

It was rather a fascinating office this of Baker's in
the precincts at Pelsworthy, full of relics garnered in
church restorations — poppyheads from old pews,
carved stone bosses, crockets, finials and stops;
lengths of string-courses and hood-moulds ; frag-
ments of tracery in stone and wood, one or two
brasses, and a heterogeneous collection of other
Gothic, ecclesiastical remnants were fixed upon the
walls, in place of the usual perspectives of work ex-
ecuted, or the uninstructive drawings of past pupils.
At one end of the outer office a complete stone sedilia
and piscina had been erected, taken intact from the
ruined chancel of a neighbouring church that had
been awaiting restoration for the past twenty-five
years.

Jacob's first task on entering upon his duties was
to make a measured drawing of the piscina, a work
consecrated by long established usage as the inevit-
able preliminary step in the instruction of Mr. Baker's
pupils. Jacob was nervous and shy, regardful of the

THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION 59

eye of George Bennetts, a square, dark young man
who was paid a salary of £2 a week to conduct the
affairs of the office, keep the books, go over buildings,
make the greater number of the working drawings,
copy specifications, and, when there were no pupils,
take tracings. A steady plodding young man this
Bennetts, who was even more shy of Jacob than
Jacob was of him.

As a sample of the kind of drawing he should as-
pire to make, Jacob was shown the achievement of the
brilliant Mr. Bradley, a former pupil, who passed his
A.R.I.B.A. examination whilst still in his articles, and
was now earning £3 a week in the office of a London
architect. Jacob was allowed to retain this drawing
of Mr. Bradley's as a guide — but lest he should be
tempted to take his measurements therefrom by means
of " dividers," instead of from the solid by means of
tape and foot-rule, he was advised to make his own
drawing to a different scale.

Jacob was very quick to apprehend the subtleties
of geometrical drawing, and the enthusiastic interest
he displayed in the representation of a " dog-tooth "
enrichment earned for him the commendation of
Mr. Baker.

"Hm! Come! Very good," said Baker. "Eh?
not half bad, for a first attempt. Eh.'' Mr. Ben-
netts.? Yes, yes, very quick to get the idea."

Bennetts morosely pointed out some dozen or so
mistakes in Jacob's drawing; morosely because this
was his cover for nervousness as fussiness was that for
Mr. Baker's. His criticism, too, was not due to any
ill-humour or a hypercritical spirit, but to a con-
scientious desire to help and instruct the new pupil.

Jacob grew gloomy at the alteration involved in the
rectification of his mistakes, and had to learn that
the making of his first measured drawing was not to

60 JACOB STAHL

be achieved without toil and application. It must be
confessed that he grew tired before the drawing was
completed, and was not sorry when a rush of work
induced Mr. Baker to set him the new task of tracing,
a task that he learned to perform with enough effi-
ciency in two days, to allow of his work being used
for office purposes. When he returned to his first
drawing after a three weeks' interval, he decided to
begin it all over again, in order that he might make
it without a single mistake. But this second drawing
was also consigned later to the scrap-heap, and it
was not until Jacob had been in the office some eight
months that his first work was inked in and finished up.
Even so, it did not please him, and he finally en-
tered his determination to make another at some future
time, that should utterly eclipse the work of Mr.
Bradley.

8.

The period of pupilage does not furnish any inci-
dent of real importance, but the tendencies that Jacob
has already exhibited show signs of becoming ma-
tured. As an example it may be noticed that he
wasted more time in Mr. Baker's office than he did
under the tutelage of Fearon. To the solemn Ben-
netts, Jacob was by way of being a revelation, a
type of reckless daring, but Bennetts came of a solid,
God-fearing family, and consequently his opinion is
not without prejudice.

To him, the manufacture of a chess-board for office
use, whilst Mr. Baker was absent on one of his fre-
quent visits to measure the dilapidations in some re-
cently vacated rectory, was a revolutionary act daring
the wrath of small gods who visit neglect of discipline
with merited punishments, so Bennetts regarded Jacob

THE CHOICE OF A PROFESSION 61

with something of awed admiration, even as he admin-
istered sarcastic rebukes thus, —

" I suppose you 're not in a hurry to finish that
tracing? It 's got to go off to-night or to-morrow."

Jacob was very busy blacking the alternate squares.

" If you don't finish it, / shall have to stop and
do it."

" All right — I '11 finish it in half a tick, don't
worry. I '11 go on with it as soon as I 've done this.
I 've got to leave this then, till it 's dry."

The tracing was eventually finished in time for
post, but showed signs of imperfect and hurried work-
manship that was unworthy of the office standard, as
Bennetts did not fail to point out.

Jacob, regretfully criticizing the finished chess-
board, advised his fellow worker that he was a " fear-
ful grouser " and there admonition ceased. The
chess-board was to be the best of its kind produced by
any amateur in office hours, but the hinge had not had
sufficient consideration and was a failure, as the board
would only shut up quite flat when the working side
was folded outwards. It may be put in the same class
of production as the drawing of the piscina — not
quite up to the contemplated standard.

By degrees Jacob's influence and example effected
a broadening of Bennetts' outlook, displayed not only
in a greater leniency towards this wayward pupil, but
even in occasional acts of confederacy. For instance
he allowed Jacob to initiate him into the subtleties of
chess in surreptitious moments, and developed a re-
markable capacity for that game. But Bennetts was
of the type that adventures wisely. He had a con-
science that could not be tricked by sophistry, and
he noted all time spent in those dissipations with
Jacob, and made it up later by staying after hours
in the office, or by taking work home.

62 JACOB STAHL

In one other way did Jacob astonish and inform
Bennetts, though a year's companionship was neces-
sary before sufficient confidence had been established
to allow Jacob to express the budding flower of his
imagination. Jacob was then nineteen and his bur-
geoning was something premature, maybe, but it gave
promise of future efflorescence.

BOOK TWO
MADELINE

BOOK TWO
MADELINE

CHAPTER VI

THE BURGEONING
1.

It was the outline of his very first love-affair that
Jacob confided — an imperfect outline, and not en-
tirely a true one. The difference was caused by a
wish to convey the fine romantic atmosphere sur-
rounding the affair in Jacob's mind, and this one fact
hardly seemed likely to reproduce the glamour that
had exalted the original incident. The story may be
told in his own words, making note of his one deliber-
ate inaccuracy.

" I say, Bennetts ! "

Bennetts flashed a side glance at Jacob, and no-
ticed that his elbows were on his drawing-board, and
that he was staring intently at the lower sash of the
windows in front of him. No doubt he would have
stared out into the street beyond, but Mr. Baker had
had the lower sashes glazed with obscured glass to
hide the distractions of the thoroughfare. Mr. Baker
knew well that when there was work to be done, the
temptation to look out of the window was quite irre-
sistible alike to pupils or paid assistants.

" I say, Bennetts ! " repeated Jacob.

Bennetts grunted and continued to make progress
with his drawing. Mr. Baker had departed for a dis-

66 JACOB STAHL

tant rectory half an hour before, and Bennetts,
though he might waste a Kttle time later, had no in-
tention of beginning too early.

" I say, Bennetts," said Jacob for the third time,
" have you ever been engaged? "

" No ! " The monosyllable was as emphatic and
whole-hearted a denial as anyone could wish.

"Why not.?"

" Why don't you get on with your work ? "

" That 's all right ! Why have n't you.? "

Bennetts sniffed disdainfully. " Why have n't you
ever been married.? "

" Don't be an ass ! Have n't you ever seen a girl
you wanted to marry.? "

" No ! "

Bennetts had a great fear of young women. On
the few occasions that had found him an unwilling
companion to one of the sex, though only for a few
minutes, he had suffered untold torture. His shy-
ness in such circumstances made him a determined
misogynist.

" Do you mean to say you 've never been in love .? "
urged Jacob, but Bennetts refused to give him either
encouragement or confidence, so he resumed work for
the time, but being full of his subject, returned to it
when he and his companion were having a picnic lunch
in the office. A special entertainment, this, that had
become a feature of the day in the absence of Mr.
Baker.

" It seems funny," said Jacob, eating a dry and
floury scone, and making grunting pauses in his
efforts to retain his hold on the conversation whilst
choking over the disposition of his powdery food,
" funny you should n't ever have seen any girl — you
know, any girl, I mean, that seemed different to other
girls, or women. You 're sure to ; sooner or later."

THE BURGEONING 67

Bennetts regarded him with a sceptical stare, but
only vouchsafed a monosyllable. " Why? "

" Everyone does sooner or later."

" Meaning to say . . ..P "

Jacob blushed, but accepted the encouragement
and, losing self-consciousness as he continued, bore
down his unsympathetic listener.

" There was a sort of fate about it," he began. " I
was thinking about — things of that sort, and then
I saw her, all of a sudden."

" Oh ! did you propose to her on the spot .'' " Ben-
netts, always self-conscious, was constrained to be-
come facetious.

" Don't be a silly ass," returned Jacob. " Why
can't you be serious, sometimes — I 'm not making
this up, I want to tell you about it, only how can I, if
you make idiotic remarks ? They 're not funny."

" Sorry," replied Bennetts, with a markedly ironi-
cal inflection, " I did n't know it was so serious."

" I think it must have been Sir Anthony Felmers-
dale's daughter. They 've been away in Italy for
ever so long — I 've never seen any of them before,
but we heard they were coming back last week."

" Bit hopeless, is n't it.? " put in Bennetts with a
grin. Jacob resented this insinuation, but passed it
by lightly enough.

" Oh ! well," he went on, " I have n't got as far as
that yet, I have n't even spoken to her — in fact, I 've
only just seen her once — yesterday."

" How old is she? " Bennetts would not have been
surprised to learn that the lady was of mature age.

" Oh ! I don't know. She 's, she 's quite young — I
should n't think more than sixteen — or seventeen."

This was his deliberate misstatement. Jacob had
guessed Sir Anthony's eldest daughter to be not more
than thirteen, as a matter of fact she was a year older.

68 JACOB STAHL'

" Bit young, Is n't she ? " Bennetts was of opinion
that this affair need not be taken seriously, even with
Jacob's exaggeration, which he did not guess at.

Jacob blushed again, this time at his own men-
dacity, more than ever resolved that the truth must
never escape him. He could n't face ridicule on such a
subject. To avert it he made successful appeal to the
snobbery, inevitable in the provincial mind, in which
the tradition of the thrall is still so near the surface.

" Do you know anything about the Felmersdales ? "
he asked.

" Not much," returned Bennetts, " Sir Anthony
has been away a lot. Mr. Baker has never done any
work there."

" He 's a baronet, is n't he? "

Bennetts nodded and the conversation languished.
A return to the original theme had become difficult.

The scene, which Jacob had feared to describe, had
not been without a certain atmosphere of romance,
despite the tender years of Miss Felmersdale.

Jacob had wandered over to the park fence of Elm-
over, and, tired by his mile walk, as yet the limit for
a single effort, had climbed the ladder stile and
perched himself on the top bar, from whence he looked
down through an avenue of young green that pressed
upon the narrow path leading through the plantation
to the open land beyond. His mind had been wander-
ing in doubtful ways. Already he had begun to spec-
ulate on the mysteries and attractions of women.
There had been a confectioner's assistant at Pels-
worthy for whom he had cultivated a shy and distant
admiration, until, venturing into the shop, he had
discovered serious defects in her front teeth. This

THE BURGEONING 69

and her accent had disillusioned him. The ideal re-
fused to expand, despite careful encouragement. The
memory of front teeth that had decayed into strange
pointed shapes — possibly by over-indulgence in her
own wares — was too insistent, and the conception of
other teeth that did not grow, and that might discover
a foundation of an unnaturally red composition, was
even more repulsive to him. For a few days he had
continued to take occasional glances at the undoubt-
edly pretty profile that could be glimpsed between the
big glass jars of unhealthy-looking sweets that stood
in solemn and uniform rows in the window; but this
soon palled, and he was seeking another, and more
perfect ideal, conceived in his own mind as a refined
and completed version of the young lady confectioner.

The vision that came to him was of a diiferent order.

A girl of fourteen, flushed with running, her great
mane of red-brown hair flying loose over a white sum-
mer frock, that would seem by its scantiness to have
been a relic of the previous year ; hatless, breathless,
but radiating a glory of eager, petulant, intoxicating
youth and vigour, she came down the narrow path,
her long legs taking leaping strides, till she drew up
within two yards of Jacob, and stopped at last to
regard him with an insolent stare.

Jacob was oppressed by a sudden shyness, uncer-
tain whether speech was expected of him, in any case
unable to find words. So he sat silently, taking in a
picture of two rather contemptuous eyes of a warm
hazel brown that matched very nearly the colour of
that glowing tangle of loose hair. Later he remem-
bered other items, subconsciously noted during that
moment of tensity which held them, locked as it were,
in mutual regard. Such items as a white skin, some-
what freckled across the bridge of a nose that was
short, straight and daintily finished as to the spring-

70 JACOB STAHL

ing of the nostrils; a full red mouth, also daintily
shaped, and now slightly open to admit of rapid
breathing; teeth that were a very model for all con-
fectioner's young ladies. But above all he carried
away an impression of personality, of something wil-
ful, proud, commanding, yet essentially feminine, a
picture of a girl-woman who might be his tyrant, for
whom he would sacrifice anything, everything.

All this came later, even the memory of facial de-
tail, when Jacob had had time to exercise his power of
imagination and idealization. For now the nymph,
held for no more than a brief second by Jacob's stare,
broke away from the hold of his eyes, and, turning
impatiently with a shrug of childish shoulders and a
distinctly uttered " Oh ! quelle betise," retreated in the
manner of her coming.

And " How silly ! " echoed Jacob in English, as he
watched eagerly his flying nymph. Then redundantly
he blamed himself for being an ass, an idiot, a moon-
ing, tongue-tied, foolish calf that could not utter so
much as a foolish bleat to detain even for an instant
this warm, living impersonation of all beauty. As he
turned reluctant footsteps back to Ashby Sutton, he
carried with him wonderful material for a new and
splendid ideal of femininity, albeit juvenescent, but
then he was only nineteen, and in three years. . . .

3.

From this desire he wove the fabric of a hundred
dreams, and sought convincing detail to give reality.
She had been disdainful, and he pictured conditions
that should change her disdain to admiration. He
became a hero in a hundred ways, strong, triumphant,
elevated to an admirable glory that made him the
envy of men and the desire of women. Then, from

THE BURGEONING 71

his height, he would stretch a hand to his vision of
loveHness and tell her that, great and wonderful
though he was, he was her very slave, a creature fain
to obey her smallest word. Or, wandering in a lower
plane, he created a simple danger, some tinker tramp,
menacing this frail, female thing with horrid threat
of kidnapping or holding to ransom, till Jacob, the
hero, outwits or overpowers him — the victory is in-
tellectual or physical according to the mood — and
thereafter throws himself at the dainty feet of the
thirteen-year-old maiden (his estimate) to be again
her slave and abject lover till such time as ... In
three years. . . .

But how could Jacob say these things to Bennetts
the scoffer, Bennetts the unimaginative misogynist
who gloried only in completed work of the most trivial
kind — such as a drawing kept clean, a neat tracing,
or some minor problem of building construction, suc-
cessfully grappled with.''

Nor dared he confide in Aunt Hester, inasmuch as
he realized by a precocious instinct that Aunt Hester,
however sweet and kind she might be, would have an
inclination to repress his dreaming in this direction.
No, he saw the impossibility of any confidant; there
could be but one, and she was hopelessly far above
him, the daughter of a titled landowner, and even as
a child proud; indignant at his intrusion on her
father's estate. So Jacob dreamed, and wandered as
often as might be to the ladder stile in the park fence
of Elmover, and was unrewarded by any further
glimpse of his ideal. Was she not far removed from
him ? Picture to yourself that at thirteen she thought
in French. What a world separated her from the
confectioner's assistant. How great the difference be-
tween Miss Brown's " How silly " and this vision with
her " Quelle betise."

7« JACOB STAHL

4.

This precocious blossoming of Jacob's was a false
spring; an immature budding followed by a " black-
thorn winter " that lasted two years. During this
time of retarded growth in one direction, he made
some progress in others. He read much modern
fiction from a Pelsworthy circulating library, a few
of the English classics, an occasional volume of essays
on literature that inspired him with the wish to write,
and much nondescript, worthless stuff that he had
hard work to forget later. His attempts at writing
were feeble and spasmodic, though they pleased him
at the time, and were the subject of stimulating
praise by Aunt Hester. To her, Jacob confided his
desire to become a great novelist, but his plot — an
involved, machine-made affair — refused to develop
on any but the most conventional lines, and he found
the effort of concentration necessary to describe the
actions of his unrealized puppets, distasteful and
wearying. The writing of this novel never passed the
stage of an attempted first chapter, the whole of
which was entirely irrelevant. This attempt gave
him some pleasure in the doing and diverted his mind
to the thought of becoming an essayist. He was even
encouraged in the ambition by Eric, who conde-
scended to read the effort on the occasion of one of
his visits to Ashby Sutton, and remarked that Jacob
" had rather an original style." For two days after
this criticism, Jacob racked his brains for a subject,
but the things he knew did not seem worth recording,
and he was not then equal to the task of writing an
essay on a subject of which he knew practically noth-
ing. So his literary ambitions waned after a time,
and his progress in Mr. Baker's office waxed in pro-
portion, and Aunt Hester was no longer perplexed bj^

THE BURGEONING 73

Jacob's demand to suggest something for him to
write about.

When the subject came to him, it was not material
for an essay but for a poem.

Eric was down for a few days' holiday ; a glorious
Eric with a dark moustache, passed safely into the
Home Civil, a man with an income and a position, a
man who was saving money. To Jacob he was a
paralyzing representative of learning, a scholar who
had the material for a hundred essays at his com-
mand, who could quote Lessing and Fichte and read
them in the original, and who had, indeed, written an
article on the Ethics of Criticism which had been ac-
cepted by one of the Reviews. The proximity of so
much scholarship depressed and disheartened Jacob,
made him feel the worthlessness of his own literary
ambitions, made him more resolved than ever to stick
to architecture. And even here Eric's reading had
been more thorough than his own, if it were a question
of some classic remnant, such as the Temple of Vesta
at Tivoli for instance. But in such a vulgar matter
as building construction, Jacob's office training gave
him an opportunity to display some superiority, an
opportunity he used to the best advantage; for his
brother had an inquisitive mind, listened to Jacob's
discourses on the framing of a double hung sash
frame with interest, and occasionally put questions
that necessitated reference to office authorities.

It was a cold day in early June that brought new
experience to Jacob. The occasion was a cricket
match between Ashby Sutton and a neighbouring vil-
lage. Eric had volunteered his services on behalf of
Ashby Sutton, and Jacob and Aunt Hester had ac-
companied him as spectators. The match was played
in a great rough field, known locally as Sharpe's Ease.
Sharpe, it may be noted, was merely a local carpenter,

74 JACOB STAHL

but as the Ease (probably a corruption of Easement),
in which he had no proprietary rights, adjoined his
yard, and could be only entered therefrom from the
village side, it had been named after him. The ac-
commodation for spectators was as primitive as the
pitch, the latter being a roughly shorn and incom-
pletely rolled area some thirty yards square, while the
seating consisted of two long forms, unstable and not
to be sat upon at their extremities unless properly
weighted with other occupants, lest they should rear
suddenly to the perpendicular and slide the unwary
sitter to grass.

Aunt Hester, with motherly consideration, had
brought a rug, and insisted on wrapping it round the
lower half of a slightly peevish Jacob, resentful of
coddling. These two had the whole seating accom-
modation to themselves, for the opposing team, who
had won the toss and taken first innings, as a matter
of course, preferred the grass, and avoided the neigh-
bourhood of the uncertain forms ; and the partisans
of Ashby Sutton, some dozen villagers, had taken up
positions close at hand, ready for counter-acclama-
tions and encouragement to their own team. Tent,
pavilion, or boundary there was none, indeed a man
might have run twenty for a single hit, if he could
have hit hard enough. A cold, depressing stretch of
pasturage it seemed to Jacob, and he could have
wished the dulness relieved by the intrusion of the
cattle which had been driven into a remote comer of
the wilderness, but were, apparently, either lacking in
curiosity or accustomed to the vagaries of the strange
two-legged race.

Of the Ashby Sutton team only two were in flan-
nels, Eric and a red-haired youth of seventeen or so,
a stranger about whom Aunt Hester was unable to
afford any information.

THE BURGEONING 76

It was very dull. Jacob was waiting patiently to
see Eric go in, his bowling on that uncertain pitch
had not been successful, and the fielding was of the
feeblest. Who could arouse any enthusiasm for the
run-getting of the opposition, some lout swiping
haphazard at a " good length ball " ? Though his
eye must have been true enough, for the lout was
making many runs.

5.

Four o'clock brought school-children and prepara-
tions for tea, a long trestle-table, large white metal
urns, a clothes-basket full of loaves and cakes, and
more unstable forms. These things, both prepara-
tions and school-children, were a mild diversion, but
Aunt Hester was no longer present to receive Jacob's
criticisms. She had seen a widow protegee assisting
in the tea-making, and had gone to make inquiries
in regard to some domestic detail of laundry, and
Jacob looked round in search of her, fretfully anx-
ious for her return.

His eye was caught by a vision of white dresses,
seen dimly through the perspective of shed and piled
timber afforded by Sharpe's yard. " Village girls,"
was his inward comment, uttered in the spirit of
" unberufen," an anticipation of disappointment, for
he had not forgotten his fairy of Elmover and still
looked for her — on occasion ; still made her the
heroine of dreams at increasingly long intervals.

This time he did not look in vain. No village girl
ever came with that quick impatient stride, nor car-
ried her hat, swinging it recklessly by the brim —
instead of wearing it according to the usual conven-
tion. Nor had any village girl such a wild mane of
glorious red-brown hair; unrestrainable, burning.

76 JACOB STAHL

wilful, petulant hair. It was by that he knew her as
she came through the little gate from the yard, and
made straight for the form on which he was sitting.
The small dark girl, also dressed in white, who was
with her, was a negligible detail.

But when Jacob saw the subject of his dreams
actually approaching him, no longer a dream but a
glowing, beautiful young woman of sixteen, he was
stricken with a horrible nervousness that might have
disgraced the misogynical Bennetts. His heart began
to beat wildly ; if any escape had offered he would
have accepted it, but he was afraid to exhibit himself
walking alone, so noticeable an object in that wilder-
ness of cattle-shorn, mole-mined field. So he sat still,
very still, bending an absorbed gaze on the reckless
hitting of Ashby Sutton's visitors, and the material-
ized day-dream passed him without a glance, turned,
stared for a moment at the rapidly progressing
cricket match, and then sat down within a foot of
him. The dark sister followed, more precise, her very
manner of sitting a demure rebuke to that vital, buoy-
ant creature beside her.

Jacob remained frozen to his seat, afraid to make
the least movement ; his eyes were glued on the
progress of the uninteresting match — but he was
deliciously conscious of the presence of this new, in-
vigorating personality. He was conscious of her
movements, the impatient fanning of her big straw
hat — she had undoubtedly been running — of the
sweet scent of a clean linen dress, of an atmosphere
of girlish freshness. But his dreams wanted remodel-
ling — she was two years older, nearly a woman, and,
alas ! more unapproachable than ever. " Quelle be-
tise," rang in his mind, but when speech came from
his neighbour, it was English of the English.

" They 're in."

THE BURGEONING 77

** How do you know? " from the negligible sister.

" Can't you see Billy fielding over there ? Who 's
the other man in flannels ? He does n't look like a
villager."

An opportunity this, for Jacob, but he dared not
venture and the sister replied with an uninterested
shake of her head, and silence fell again.

Jacob became occupied with a jealousy of Eric,
thus singled out for attention, but was not Eric al-
ways blessed, a paragon stalking through life with
glorious potentialities. . . . This line of thought
was interrupted by another observation from his
neighbour.

" What an awful pull ! I wish they 'd get out —
I want to see Billy go in."

Billy ! was he a brother ? He had red hair, but of
quite another shade to that of the divinity. Billy's
hair was red, distinctly, disgustingly red, while hers
was not red at all. Jacob toyed for a moment with
the attempt to find adequate description, but " au-
tumn leaves," the only simile that came to him, was
rejected and he returned to pondering on Billy's
relationship.

" Oh, good ! There 's one of them out, anyway."

A refined voice, though her phraseology was of the
schoolroom. Jacob fell to wishing that she could
hear his voice, that she might know that he, too, was
not a villager or a farmer's son. He wished he could
edge away a little further in order to see her better,
but he was afraid such an action might be miscon-
strued. As a matter of fact she had hardly noticed
his presence, but Jacob was thinking so much of her
that it seemed hardly possible she should not be think-
ing at all of him.

This desire of Jacob's to make his voice heard, to
attract attention, was partly the outcome of inward

78 JACOB STAHL

dissension. He had been inclined to argue himself
out of the sphere of dreamland, beautifully commend-
able but unreal. He was fighting the tendency to
think things instead of doing them, as he phrased it,
and he struggled desperately to overcome a shyness,
for which he found ready excuse in physical disability,
disability to shine by deeds of athletic prowess ; how
glorious a thing it would be to bowl that slogging
anti-Ashby-Suttonite, for instance. He could not for-
bear lingering over the idea for a few moments.

His first effort at speech was a painful failure, an
attempt — it was no more — to say " Well fielded "
when Eric succeeded in correctly anticipating the er-
ratic leapings of a bumping ball. The sound of his
own voice frightened him, he choked in the middle,
and, imagining that he must be the object of amused
contempt, suddenly became the victim of a hard
cough. He persisted in the cough, even after his
furious blushes had subsided; he wished to demon-
strate unmistakably that it was a genuine affliction.
Then he became angry with himself, and becoming un-
speakably brave, deliberately moved a few inches
further from the girl beside him, and turning, looked
full at her. She was, apparently, quite unconscious
of his regard, absorbed in the play of the match, but
Jacob could not watch her even from the vantage of
the unseen. It seemed to him an act of profanation
to stare at that soft, sun-warmed cheek, those brown
eyes, the firm, hot curve of the red mouth. She was
to him a thing too wonderfully beautiful to be looked
at, save with the deepest reverence, a separate crea-
tion far removed from the ordinary world of common-
place humanity — and yet, if she could but be con-
scious of his homage, his almost craven worship !

But the end came before opportunity offered.

"Oh, good, Billy's going on." The ejaculation

THE BURGEONING 79

was followed by a cheer and " Oh, well bowled, Billy,"
as that hero sent down, first ball, a full-pitch that
spreadeagled the defender's wicket. In a fine glory
of excitement at Felmersdale prowess, the two girls
rose suddenly, and Jacob was nearly precipitated to
grass. Swinging a moment on the short end of a
balanced see-saw he saved himself only by an undig-
nified and hurried struggle to find his feet, legs and
hands being enveloped in the rug; the hands were in
his pockets partly because of the cold — though the
mere sight of Miss Felmersdale should have warmed
him — chiefly, perhaps, to find a refuge for them.
Jacob through inexperience was backward in the
minutias of self-assurance; at twenty-one he retained
memories of an awkwardness, excusable only at six-
teen. Even this slight mishap depressed him.

6.

The tea which followed was a failure from his point
of view. There was an uncomfortable five minutes
before he found a place at the table. Eric was dis-
cussing policy with the chief batting hope of Ashby
Sutton ; Aunt Hester, the ever helpful, had been ap-
pointed organizer-in-chief of the preparations, and
Jacob, burdened with an ill-folded rug, uncomfort-
ably conscious of an imagined conspicuousness, an
altogether unheroic figure, stood silent and solitary,
nervously stealing an occasional glance at a restless
white figure that spoke condescendingly to a few fa-
voured villagers, and then displayed a familiarity
with the horrible red-haired Billy that plunged the
lonely watcher into an abyss of misery. Never had
he seen quite so beastly and contemptible a youth as
this one with the red hair.

When at last he was installed on Aunt Hester's

80 JACOB STAHL

right hand at the top of the table, and was able to
make some show of importance by assisting in the re-
plenishment and disposal of ill-matched cups of
coffee-coloured tea, Jacob still remained disconsolate.
The boy, Billy, was noisy, joking lightly with con-
fused rustics, and his rallyings on missed catches
or evaded hits made him the centre of admiration.
Even she, the wonderful one, laughed and encour-
aged this vulgarian, and Jacob wondered morbidly
whether this were the type admired of women. In his
own mind he found delight in the contrast between
himself and the coarseness of a youth capable of such
horse-play as the throwing of cake across the table,
but what did he know of the feminine mind.'' He pic-
tured it gentle, tender, delicate, but might it not by
virtue of these very attributes admire the strong, the
virile ?

Inquiry of a great and garrulous Mrs. Smith who
sat next him and talked steadily as she ate, grunting
when her mouth was too full for words and becom-
ing slowly articulate as she prepared the way for a
refilling, elicited the fact that " 'Is name 's Mister
Kingdon, sir. 'E 's been 'ere afore, I 'm told, though
not often in the village. Staying with Sir Hanthony,
and Mrs. Cook, who does some of their washing, told
me only two days back as some 'ankerchers she 'ad
was marked Kingdon, which is where I got the name
from. 'E 's a nice, pleasant spoken young gentleman,
ain't 'e, very free and open-like with heveryone ? "

Jacob in disgust turned again to Aunt Hester,
vouching only a nod by way of reply, and the tea
dragged on, a mere accompaniment to Mr. Kingdon's
** free and open-like " joviality.

THE BURGEONING 81

7.

Jacob had become hopeless, now. His mood was
one of self-sacrifice, as the slighted lover — who had
never so much as received a glance from his beloved
— he saw himself condemned to a life of dreary celi-
bacy. In furtherance of this project, he did not
return to his form for quite half an hour after the
match had begun again, and then only when he had
at last divorced the useful Aunt Hester from the cir-
cumstance of tea and village inquiry.

Rain threatened, and he allowed himself once more
to be wrapped in the odious rug, preferring this
degradation to the ignominy of an argument with
Aunt Hester which might have revealed too many
intimacies to a certain lady within earshot.

The day finished with an encouragement and an
insult. Billy had fallen somewhat from his pedestal.
Disgraced by a paltry score of three, he had come,
gloomy for the moment and out of temper, to explain
to his admirers the exact cause of his dismissal, obvi-
ously a gross mischance ; and Jacob, delighted at his
downfall, listened to his excuses and hoped their
patent disingenuity bore the same message of " silly
brag " to the ladies of Felmersdale that he himself
read so plainly. And then when every allowance had
been asked for, bad wicket, bad light, bad luck, and a
dozen other bad things, Jacob heard a question put
in a lower voice that gave him a sudden glow of
happiness.

" Do you know who that is ? Don't look round,
silly, close to you, that boy with the blue eyes ? "

It was she who asked the question. Then she was
interested in him after all ; she had noticed him. —
But the answer was crushing, horrible, an answer
Jacob never forgot.

8i» JACOB STAHL

" Oh ! that ! I don't know, I thought It was a
woman."

Then came the rain that saved Ashby Sutton from
defeat.

You picture Jacob that night killing Billy by hor-
rible torture, but also you see him looking at himself
in the glass, to satisfy himself as to the colour of his
eyes. Were they unusually blue.'' And she had no-
ticed them.

CHAPTER Vn

ELMOVEE
1.

The family of Felmersdale had been established at
Elmover since the twelfth century, but the baronetcy
dated only from the days of George III. They had
been staunch Whigs every one, till after the Reform
Bill, when old Sir ]Miles Felmersdale had found him-
self suddenly without a seat in the House, and had re-
linquished active politics. Since that time the family
had fallen into a stertorous Conservatism that went
no further than supporting the Tory candidate by
personal encouragement and registering some half-a-
dozen votes in his favour.

The present Baronet, Sir Anthony, was an apa-
thetic man of fifty with a surly manner. He had been
a rake in his youth and spent the accumulations that
had awaited his maj ority , — his father had died when
he was a boy of eleven. His mother was an Italian
from Lombardy, and had taken her only son with her
to Italy every winter so long as she had had control
of his movements. This accounted for the slight
foreign accent Sir Anthony still retained, noticeable
in a slight trill of the " r " in certain words, and also
accounted in part for something not truly English in
his character. After ten years of foolishness, the
usual riot of a young man with plenty of money and
little brains. Sir Anthony had fallen in love with a
girl of sixteen and had married her out of hand. She
was the daughter of a lawyer's clerk, and Sir Anthony

84 JACOB STAHL

had scraped up an acquaintance with her in Hyde
Park one Saturday afternoon. She had come to look
at what she called the " grand folk " and had occu-
pied the chair next to him. The courtship had been
brief but urgent. The young Baronet was suffering
reaction after a long bout of the special fatuities en-
couraged by the Gaiety ladies of that period, and he
turned with relief to the innocence and freshness of
the ingenuous child, and for the sake of these qualities
overlooked her pronounced Cockney accent.

Sir Anthony certainly had the excuse that the lady
of his choice was beautiful. She was a London type,
with a complexion for which no better simile can be
found than the hackneyed one of a peach, which con-
veys the idea both of colour and texture. She had
been married in her parish church in Camden Town
and after a few months in Italy had come to take up
her position as Lady Felmersdale at Elmover, some-
what to the dismay of the county, who found the
combination of Cockney manners and accent, and
hair still dependent in a long plait, altogether op-
posed to their sense of fitness.

After the birth of her first child, a son who died
when he was a few days old. Lady Felmersdale, then
a matron of seventeen, put up her hair and asserted
her individuality. Her first conquest was the dow-
ager, whom she drove out of England after two years'
bickering; her second was Sir Anthony, who was re-
duced in the course of another two years to his proper
position in the household, a position subordinate to
the will of his wife.

There should have been a third conquest — the
county; but this was never achieved, hardly essayed.

ELMOVER 86

Lady Felmersdale was a vain woman, but she had
neither the ability nor the patience to achieve social
success. The county called, disapproved, and de-
parted with contempt — the men pitying Felmersdale
and excusing him, the women pitying without finding
excuse. Nevertheless, if it had been boldly attacked
and entertained, the county might have been won,
but Felmersdale was indifferent, he hardly knew the
people, he had never mixed with them, was not inter-
ested in them. His wife found herself in those early
days too hopelessly at sea. She had no knowledge of
the usages of these people She would have been more
at home in a London drawing-room than among these
hard-riding women who talked nothing but hunting
one half the time, and little else for the other half.

There is no need to dwell on the solecisms of young
Lady Felmersdale, or her flounderings in a world
where the glory of titles greater than her own did not
excuse the absence of what she expected in the way of
" drawing-room manners." The good-natured Flora
March " had a try," as she said, " to help her on a
bit," but Ethel Felmersdale was not the right type
to be helped on. She had, despite her personal van-
ity, a gift of sturdy common sense and it helped her
in this matter to realize the impossibility of ever be-
coming on terms of intimacy with the county. Nor
would she be patronized by Flora March for whom
she had a feeling akin to contempt, notwithstanding
the fact that she was the daughter of a Marquis. So
Lady Flora had to give her up as impossible, which
she did promptly at the first rebuff, a rebuff in par-
ticularly bad taste, a suburban rudeness unforgivable
in March circles.

There followed a long period of Continental wan-
derings, during which time Elmover saw little of its
Lady and her husband. The eldest girl, Madeline,

86 JACOB STAHL

was born in Italy and favoured her paternal grand-
mother, the dowager. In her childhood Madeline was
polyglot, speaking Italian, French, or English in-
differently well, then Italian was dropped and for-
gotten, and though French sometimes came upper-
most, as on the occasion of her first meeting with
Jacob by the Elmover ladder stile, English had grad-
ually supplanted the other languages. But this fa-
miliarity with other forms of speech saved Madeline
and her sister, who was two years younger, from any
imitation of their mother's accent. Ethel Felmers-
dale soon reached the limit of her powers of self-edu-
cation. Her ear was incapable of appreciating the
difference in the vowel sound of such a word as
" county " as pronounced by the native of Camden
Town or spoken by Lady Flora March, nor was this
the only crux, for Lady Felmersdale's pronunciation
of her husband's name came perilously near to " Sir
Enthony," and, curiously enough, the youngest of her
three daughters, who came eight years after Madeline,
caught the same accent, though she, too, was born
in Italy.

It was not till Madeline was nearly seventeen that
the Felmersdales with their family of three daughters
came to live permanently at Elmover, By this time
Ethel Felmersdale had developed a noticeable rotun-
dity, though she kept her beauty and still studied it;
no one ever saw her untidy. But there is one more
confession to make — she had become a secret drinker.

As a vice it was of the mildest type. Two glasses
of sherry and a little whisky, taken surreptitiously,
was sufficient to make her maudlin and foolish. Her
husband knew of her weakness, but welcoming the

ELMOVER 87

change of temper generally associated with these
periodic outbursts, made little effort to control her
mild excesses. Nevertheless, the fact formed another
link in the chain of causes that drove him away from
his own kind.

Madeline and her next sister, Nina, knew also, and
made some tentative efforts to restrain their mother.
Although standing less in awe of her furious temper
than their father, they did not remonstrate openly,
but tried to remain with her when they knew by plain
evidences that her desire was towards the sideboard.
It was Madeline who suffered most, for Lady Felmers-
dale at her worst, on the happily rare occasions when
she had gone beyond the limits of her capacity, had
developed the qualities of a virago, and Sir Anthony
being always absent at such times, a craven in hiding,
Madeline, who knew no fear of her mother, had
borne the brunt of a temper which had more than
once found vent in blows.

Yet on the whole the household was not an unhappy
one. Anthony Felmersdale was devoted to his three
daughters and still admired his wife, rotundity, shrew-
ishness, and evil habits notwithstanding. It is true
that there were times when he regretted the society
of his youth, and he had on occasion given way to
brief outbreaks. But he had found subsequent sub-
mission to authority — the coarse, plain-spoken,
strongly resentful authority of Lady Felmersdale —
too high a price to pay, and now as he neared the
respectable age of fifty, he had settled down to a care-
less, do-nothing life, chiefly occupied by farming and
rabbit-shooting. The county looked down on him,
not so much for having married a wife from Camden
Town as for his general slackness in the matter of
sport. A Felmersdale that did n't hunt ! Waster,
weak-kneed, poor creature, sloppy fool, spavined,

88 JACOB STAHL

were some of the adjectives and epithets that passed
and were accepted as truly descriptive of Sir Anthony
by the county. It was enough to make a man misan-
thrope to see him turn out on the Boxing Day meet
at Elmover, an institution that was still upheld. A
bad day for the hunt by reason of the Pelsworthy
crowd that always put in an appearance, but still an
institution.

4.

It was in the summer of their first real year at
Elmover that Lady Felmersdale started the annual
garden-party. It did not represent a vain attempt
to capture society ; — that was done with — ambi-
tion, if it had ever existed, merged into a contempt
for the manners of Flora March and her kind, or, at
least, so expressed by the lady of Elmover. Rather
might the annual garden-party have been described as
an act of condescending charity extended to neigh-
bouring rectors, their wives and families, and to cer-
tain selected households in Ashby Sutton, dependents
in some kind on Elmover freeholds. How Hester
Stahl and her nephew came to be included in the in-
vitations is not quite certain. It may have been
through Fearon, who was on visiting terms at Elm-
over and despised his richest parishioners as he him-
self was despised, but made an exception in favour
of Madeline and Nina, both of whom he wished to pre-
pare for confirmation — a wish that did not concern
Sir Anthony and was opposed by his wife because
Fearon had been the first to make the suggestion.
But how the invitation came to be sent is not a matter
of moment; others less worthy were also invited;
indeed, certain rectors' wives who knew the county
turned up their noses at the Elmover garden-party

ELMOVER 89

and declined all subsquent invitations, becoming more
subjects for contempt added to the many in Lady
Felmersdale's list.

To Jacob the invitation seemed to be sent direct
from heaven. His heart bumped, stopped, and then
raced like the engine of an unreliable motor, when the
over-elaborate card was put before him by Aunt
Hester, with the remark that we were " going up in
the world."

Jacob temporized, intent on breakfast to hide the
extraordinarily irregular workings of his heart, which
he feared might become apparent to the keen observer.

*' I wonder why they asked us ? " was his comment.

" It 's a big affair for tenants and people, I ex-
pect," explained Aunt Hester, who was not posted in
Elmover affairs and knew nothing of county contempt.

" Oh ! I see, I suppose so. You 're an Elmover
tenant, are n't you ? "

Jacob was at once relieved and disappointed: re-
lieved in that already a cold sickness of apprehension
had beset him at the thought of meeting the " great
ones of the earth " ; disappointed in that he ap-
proved the honour of being asked so to meet them.

" I suppose we 'd better go," remarked Aunt Hes-
ter, " not that I care much about it, I 've become such
an old country woman, but it will be a good thing for
you to meet new people."

" I suppose I ought," returned Jacob. " If I 'm
ever to work up any sort of a private connection, get
private work or anything, I suppose I ought to meet
everybody I can."

" You might be made the Elmover architect," sug-
gested Aunt Hester, always hopeful ^here Jacob was
concerned.

Jacob took up the idea by refuting it, as was his
way, anticipating contradiction.

90 JACOB STAHL

** Oh ! well, hardly, considering I 'm not out of my
articles yet," he said with simulated contempt. " Be-
sides, they 're sure to have some big pot, a regular
expert on the place, who knows all about the house
and things like that."

" Well, you never know," replied Aunt Hester,
cheerfully, accepting her cue. " Who can tell what
might happen? "

The fact of the invitation leaked out at Mr. Baker's
office in the course of the next morning's work. Not
to appear too snobbish Jacob laid great stress on its
being a " tenants' affair," as he supposed, but when
Bennetts amplified the supposition by suggesting that
" they asked all sorts of people to things like that,"
Jacob hedged a little by drawing Bennetts' attention
to the fact that the " tenants' affair " explanation
was merely hypothesis. A hint, this, that he had had
a kind intention in propounding it, a wish not to over-
whelm a middle-class Bennetts by any brag of moving
in high society.

" I suppose you expect to get appointed architect
to the estate? " Thus Bennetts, who was careful not
only of Jacob's instruction in affairs technical, but
had an eye, also, to his training in matters of social
intercourse. After three years' daily intimacy, Ben-
netts found an occasional tendency to bumptiousness
in the articled pupil, which he felt called upon to
suppress. It was his method of displaying affection.

" Oh ! don't be an idiotic ass ! " was Jacob's com-
ment. Bennetts was really a little difficult at times.
But Bennetts merely grinned and being gifted with a
retentive memory made reference to a two-year-old
conversation.

" Or marry the heiress ? "

" Very likely ! " Jacob also could make use of the
weapon of satire, but he had to dive into a convenient

ELMOVER 91

desk and promote a long and hopeless search for a
scale that was not there, in order to cover a blush that
no straining of the jaw or resolute composition of his
features could suppress. From ambush he elaborated
his satire, talking to stop further suggestions from
Bennetts.

"Or both. Why not both.? You don't half realize
the opportunities, I see endless possibilities. There 's
many a true word spoken in jest, you know. You 're
making a joke of it, being a funny ass by nature, but
I 'm deadly serious. . . ."

He ran on, still hunting for a non-existent scale,
hoping to have diverted the conversation into safer
channels by the time the burn had left the face. But
Bennetts was malignant, envious perhaps.

" Well, you fell in love with her two years ago," he
persisted without remorse, " met her in the park or
something. How old did you say she was ? "

" Oh ! don't be funny ! " Jacob was angry this
time, but Bennetts, as was his custom, only grinned
satirically.

6.

The invitation was accepted by Aunt Hester in
proper form, but there remained a question, difficult
of settlement. What clothes should one wear for a
country garden-party.'* In the corner of the elabo-
rate card, the word " Tennis " was printed in inverted
commas as though it were a quotation; but Jacob
did not, could not, play tennis. He had no flannels,
and though the interval before the great event was
long enough to allow of flannels being made in Pels-
worthy, he considered that his wearing of them would
be inappropriate. He might be asked to play, and
have to suffer the hiuniliation of acknowledging his

9ft JACOB STAHL

inability. No, flannels, the one certainty, were im-
possible for him.

Revolving the question and finding Aunt Hester
and Bennetts equally unreliable, obviously unversed by
the nature of their replies in the etiquette of the sub-
ject, Jacob wrote to Eric, an authority on the right
form in all matters. The reply was exceedingly un-
satisfactory. " In town one goes to garden-parties
in a frock, or morning, coat and a top hat. If the
Elmover affair is a more or less formal occasion, I
should think this would be the correct dress."

Jacob tried to picture himself in these almost un-
known garments. He saw himself in a tail-coat and
top hat after the pattern favoured by Mr. Baker,
walking across the park, or being received by Lady
Felmersdale on the lawn in front of the house. His
artistic soul rose in protest against such a picture.
No, Eric was probably right, that terrible combina-
tion might be correct, but for him it was impossible.
Remained his best suit of blue serge, Pelsworthy made.
But would they regard him as a country bumpkin,
these aristocrats, dwellers in high places? Lord
Tony March and his compeers might be there, dressed
according to the prescribed code, and by comparison
Jacob would be singled out as an ignorant, ill-dressed
lout who knew nothing of society's ceremonial observ-
ances. Or even, if it were indeed nothing more than
a " tenants' affair," would not Jacob be classing him-
self with the unknowing in the eyes of the Felmers-
dales, who, though they might not expect the London
mode, would recognize its fitness. .

So Jacob argued back and forth, and for once
wished that he had taken Holy Orders. How easily
these things are ordained for the clergy !

This question of clothes is an instance of a grow-
ing feehng in Jacob for what may be called the fitness

ELMOVER 98

of things. He had a sense of the incongruous. In
dress his first idea was to be inconspicuous. It is
probable that could he have known for a certainty
that the rank and fashion of the county would be
present at Elmover, apparelled as for a morning call
in Mayfair, he would still have shrunk from the mile
and a half walk over the fields in so hideously inap-
propriate a dress. But after much agony of mind
and anticipatory nervousness, he solved the question
for himself in his own way.

He would wear his best blue clothes because his
others were noticeably shabby. He would wear black
boots, because he preferred them to brown, which
drew attention to his feet. For the rest he would go
in the character of an artist — so he conceived it —
who is not bound by the ordinary sartorial conven-
tions. He would in this character wear a straw hat,
a loose green tie and no gloves — and when oppor-
tunity occurred he would allow it to be known that
he was studying Art, of which architecture was cer-
tainly a branch. When he had got the feeling of the
part, Jacob was comparatively at ease again. The
problem was naturally and gracefully solved. More-
over, the dress he had designed for himself suited him;
he hated the sight of himself on a Sunday morning in
gloves and a bowler hat.

He saw a new fitness in having adopted the profes-
sion of an architect, and toyed with the idea of letting
his hair grow.

CHAPTER VIII

THE ELMOVER GAEDEN-PAETT
1.

The great affair was over.

The Jacob walking slowly back over the fields with
Aunt Hester was a new Jacob. He was a conqueror,
uplifted, whose imagination was running riot. He
was glad that Aunt Hester was silent, for he did not
want to talk. His mind was full of wonderful
thoughts, too wonderful to be put into words, im-
possible of translation, as yet, to Aunt Hester.

This, not because Madeline had taken any peculiar
notice of him, but because he had been a social suc-
cess, and had realized possibilities in himself which
to this shy, country-bred boy seemed new and alto-
gether wonderful.

Aunt Hester was quiet also, because she had seen
his success, and guessing something of his present
state of mind, was trying to reconcile herself to the
thought that the time was fast coming when Jacob
would rely less and less upon her, when she would
slip into the background of his thoughts, and become
to him a person of secondary importance. Hester
Stahl had failed in none of a mother's duties, since
she had adopted Jacob, and she had fulfilled them to
better purpose than his own mother would have done.
She had now to suffer a mother's pain, the pain of
being superseded.

It was not till supper was half over that they began
to discuss the details of the great affair, by which

THE ELMOVER GARDEN-PARTY 95

time Jacob's fervour of mind had cooled down suffi-
ciently to need relief in expression, and Hester had
prepared herself to give him the admiration and ap-
plause she knew he would demand from her. Her
own mood she must hide, though she longed for
sympathy as much as he, longed to have Jacob's
assurance that she could never be less to him than
she was now.

"Well, it was quite a success, don't you think? "
Jacob began. He wanted his applause to be spon-
taneous.

" Oh ! quite." Hester's reply was given cheerfully,
but she stuck there, the words would not come.

" I think Lady Felmersdale 's awfully jolly, don't
you.'' "

This time the insinuation was not to be neglected,
and Hester took her fence with a rush.

"Well, I had hardly any chance of judging —
you monopolized her."

"Oh! no, hardly that." This modestly. He
waited for more encouragement.

" Oh ! yes, you did. She seems to have taken a
tremendous fancy to you."

" Do you think so.^* Really.'' I like her awfully."

" Oh ! there can't be any doubt of it. She took
you about with her all the time. I think Sir An-
thony was getting quite jealous."

Jacob laughed. " She has asked me to go up to
Elmover whenever I like. A sort of general invita-
tion, and she said I was to be sure and come, and
that I was n't to think she did n't mean it. ... I
wonder why she liked me."

Hester, who had sensed something of the conditions

96 JACOB STAHL'

at Elmover, the unequal marriage, the social failure,
might have given Jacob a reason fairly corresponding
to the truth, but instead she put out her hand to
him, and smiling affectionately said, " Of course she
liked you, silly boy."

Jacob took the hand offered, this exchange of little
caresses between them was an everyday matter, but
the reason he found unsatisfying.

" Oh ! that 's only because you do," he said, some-
what inconsequently, though his meaning was clear
enough to Hester, " but you 're prejudiced, you
know, there must have been some reason or other."

It had been plain enough to the discerning. To
Ethel Felmersdale the evident admiration and respect
of this handsome, intelligent boy had been gratifying
to a vanity that was starving for something to feed
upon. The fact that she was nearly old enough to
be his mother allowed her to accept his tribute of
reverence in the right spirit. If Lord Tony had of-
fered her an apparently similar tribute, her inborn
respectability would have taken offence, she would
have placed, correctly enough, the worth and inten-
tion of his regard. But Jacob's admiration had been
of another kind, imbued with respect. So she had
been flattered, and finding in him a ready listener
had come to feel for him a very real liking.

Hester had guessed something of this, partly by
her woman's ready observation and intuition, partly
by the attitude of one or two of her fellow guests,
noticeably that of two clerically attached ladies who
fondly believed themselves to be hand and glove with
the county. But her plain duty at the present mo-
ment was not to belittle Jacob's conquest, so she par-
ried his search for reasons by asking him what he had
found to talk about.

" Oh ! all sorts of things," replied Jacob. " The

THE ELMOVER GARDEN-PARTY 97

place, you know, and some of the people and that
sort of thing. I told her about being an architect,
and she said she had an uncle who was an architect,
and she seemed to know something about it. She did
a good bit of the talking, but I kept my end up all
right. I did n't feel a bit shy. I don't think she
was bored."

" Oh ! I 'm quite sure she was n't bored, dear, you
were a great success."

" You 're pleased, are n't you, dear ? "

Hester was taken off her guard by this sudden
question. She thought she had been acting so well,
giving Jacob his share of praise with enthusiasm and
cheerfulness.

" Why do you say that? " she asked.

" I don't know. You seem to be rather reserved
about it all. I thought you would be awfully pleased.
You want me to know people and get on. Don't you
like Lady Felmersdale .'' "

" Of course, dear — I hardly saw anything of her
to-day." Hester's innate honesty made her a bad
prevaricator.

" I 'm sure you will like her when you know her
better," persisted Jacob. " She 's so kind, and she 's
good fun, too. And when you come to think of it,
it was very good of her to take such a lot of notice
of me. After all I 'm nobody."

" Quite as much as she is — " Hester let her true
opinion slip out without consideration, but Jacob,
used to her measure of adoration, missed the standard
of the comparison.

" Oh ! well, not quite, you know, dear," he said,
with a tolerant smile. " After all, she is Lady Fel-
mersdale of Elmover — one of the great ones of the
earth."

Hester did not disillusion him. Jacob should have

98 JACOB STAHL

his triumph untouched by any hint that could flaw
its magnificence, so she merely replied fondly that she
hoped great things of Jacob one day.

He was in the mood to respond to this touch, and
did not deny the possibility ; but, after enlarging for
a moment or two on his prospects, he returned to the
garden-party. There was still one essential, engross-
ing subject upon which he desired Hester's opinion,
but he dared not open it directly, so began with a
hesitating " Did you notice any of the other people
— anyone particular.? "

S.

As a matter of fact he had seen but little of Made-
line. She had been playing tennis when he and Aunt
Hester had arrived. He had caught a vision of her,
of something eager, cleverly active. He had heard her
rebuking her partner with schoolroom phrases in
laughing screams that the critical might have judged
unnecessarily loud. To Jacob the loudness had left
only an impression of aristocratic confidence; it ap-
peared something admirable by reason of its inimita-
bility so far as he was concerned.

Later he had seen her in the distance, active again,
superintending a subordinate tea-table, whilst he had
been attached to Lady Felmersdale, making a show of
assisting at the centre of affairs. Once Madeline had
come over to ask her mother whether she might invite
some guest to stay to dinner.

By virtue of this one incident, she had become
woven into the fabric of associations that became to
Jacob a brilliant tapestry, the colours of which re-
mained vivid, the figures distinct, when a thousand
subsequent incidents had faded into a dull, oblivious
grey, a dim blur of indistinguishable shades. Always

THE ELMOVER GARDEN-PARTY 99

he could recall that picture of the garden-party : —
Madeline in the centre, vivid, graceful, a loose strand
of red-brown hair rusting the whiteness of her frock,
Madeline clutching a disordered hat with impatient
hands, obedient to the unspoken reproof conveyed by
critical motherly regard of untidiness, whilst half de-
fiantly, as if anticipating denial, she broke out : " Oh !
Mums, can I ask Basil Reade to stay to dinner, else
we shan't have time to play another set ? He 's . . .
Oh ! thanks, Mumsie dear ; I thought you would n't
mind.'* Then Madeline flying off again, a bearer of
good news, but recalled to receive a whispered but au-
dible admonition concerning untidiness, and a warning
not to get too hot. All this is in Jacob's picture, not
as a moving series but, strangely, as one impression.
Part and parcel of it is his own feeling, the fear of
being introduced, which proved needless, and ceasing
to be a nervous fear was turned into regret, and more
than all, one delicious moment, when he caught and
held Madeline's regard for the fraction of a second,
and seemed to understand in that instant that he was
not altogether negligible in her estimation.

Round this centre of life and emotion was a back-
ground that did not remain constant. Lady Felmers-
dale, flushed with the sun but still beautiful, her cheeks
retaining their downy softness but warmed to too ripe
a tint, as of a peach ripe and ready to fall ; Elmover
distances, the smooth green of old lawns, brilliant
islands of scarlet geraniums, and farther, beyond the
park fence, the rough pasture-land of the park slop-
ing away past scattered forest trees, to die against a
cliff of distant wood. Interwoven with it all the smell
of crushed grass, mingled with that of dainty cakes,
tea, and the scent worn by his hostess — and, dimly,
an impression of many other people ; moving, chatter-
ing figures, servants and guests associated with the

100 JACOB STAHL'

silver and china of the tea-table, giving an atmosphere
of a new luxury and refinement, of a strange heaven
of delight, in which Jacob had suffered recurrence of
wonder to find himself at ease ; a fairy-land in which
Bennetts, Mr. Baker, and the office had no part, and
the thought of them was as the waking from a bliss-
ful dream to a dreary, vulgar world, tedious and
commonplace. . , .

4.

" Did you notice any of iJhe other people, anyone
particular ? "

Hester had no clue, she had had no hint as yet of
Jacob's admiration — and her reply was irrelevant
to the theme of the Elmover masterpiece that filled
her nephew's mind. He recalled her from discur-
sions anent drab, faded personalities with a plainer
question.

" Did you see any of the children ? There are three,
are n't there ? " The tone was one of well-assumed
indifference.

" I saw something of the second one," replied
Hester innocently — " Nina, I think they call her.
Rather a prim little girl, with dark hair. Shy and
awkward ; of course, she 's only a child, not more
than thirteen or fourteen."

" Oh yes ! I think I know the one you mean. She
was at the cricket match in June — you remember,
when Eric was here.? "

"Oh yes! I'd forgotten." Still Aunt Hester
would not bite ; she appeared to think he was talking
for the sake of finding something to say. The bait
must be plainer still; in a minute or two she would
be getting ready to wash up and put away the
supper things, and then the opportunity would be

THE ELMOVER GARDEN-PARTY 101

gone; so Jacob continued boldly in fear of a blush
that would betray him.

" The eldest one was playing tennis most of the
time, I think."

" Oh, I don't know which was Miss Felmersdale :
there were two or three girls playing. Do you know
which it was ? "

" She was in white," returned Jacob, faltering at
description, and conscious of weak definition, for
white had been the chief wear of the younger women,
and even of some who might more wisely have chosen
a less conspicuous material.

" In white? " repeated Hester. " It seems to me
they were all of them in white."

There was no help for it. Jacob saw that he must
either drop the subject or give the clue boldly, so,
still avoiding a definition of the Florentine red, for
which he had no phrase, he leaped desperately.

" She had rather remarkable hair."

" Oh ! " Aunt Hester awoke to sudden compre-
hension and interest.

" Was that girl with red hair. Miss Felmersdale ? "

" I believe so," said Jacob, still seeking an answer,
but with teeth on edge, intensely resentful of Aunt
Hester's description.

" Oh, really ! Yes, I did notice her particularly.
She was so full of life and spirits. Rather a tom-
boy, but very pretty. She '11 be a handful one of
these days, I know."

" A handful? How? Do you mean — "

" I mean she looks the sort of Miss who gets her
own way, and may be dangerously attractive when
she grows up. If I were her mother I should keep
a very sharp eye on her."

108 JACOB STAHL

6.

Jacob meditated this judgment, smoking a cigar-
ette in the the little back garden, while Aunt Hester
was capably performing the menial duties of their
small household.

He found solace in the feminine tribute to Made-
line's beauty, but many a twinge and pinch of jealousy
at the prophecy of future entanglements. She was so
far off and so " dangerously attractive," but surely
she was well guarded. It was to be noted with joy
that there had been no sign of the red-haired King-
don at Elmover, and indeed, as a rival, he faded
gradually from Jacob's thought after this date ; but
who was the favoured Basil Reade invited to stay to
dinner with such eagerness.? Some tennis-playing,
athletic sprig of gentility, with every chance in his
favour.? Jacob hated him already; picturing him
endowed with a grace and strength of body that he
himself could never rival. Women admired strength
in a man ! He remembered imagined slights from
shop-girls whom he had met and stared at in the
streets of Pelsworthy. It seemed to him that they
always looked first at his legs to see why he walked
with a stick, leaning on it more heavily than is cus-
tomary; and, then, that they regarded him either
with contempt, or, still worse, with pity. Would she,
the glorious Madeline, pity him.? Heaven forbid.
If pity were akin to love, it was not the kind of love
he desired. He wanted — no, he could not picture
his desire yet, but at least it was not the motherly,
protecting love so generously given by Aunt
Hester. . . .

Madeline ! He had heard Lady Felmersdale pro-
nounce the perfect name, that was shortened famil-
iarly to the almost equally beautiful " Maidie." A

THE ELMOVER GARDEN-PARTY 103

tender, lovable diminutive, so it seemed to Jacob.
He remembered the exact tone of Lady Felmersdale's
voice as she recalled her elated daughter to warn her
of untidiness and undue exertion. " Madeline ! " and
then as the girl turned, " Come here a moment. I
want you." He remembered the petulant frown, an-
ticipating, and impatient of rebuke, as Madeline came
back, and the quick assuring nod of her head as she
acceded to her mother's whispered admonition. " All
right," she had said ; " / won't — it is rather warm."
Even the school-girl phrases were something to be
admired, the lack of primness was in the atmosphere
of Elmover, an aristocratic disregard for middle-class
conventionalties. Aunt Hester's " tomboy " was a
misapprehension ; she did not understand these things,
was incapable of a true appreciation of what she
would perhaps call the " Elmover folk " ; they were
out of her world, but he understood, or thought he
did, for that garden-party made Jacob a terrible
snob for a time.

That night, alone in his own room, Jacob went
round the same circle again, ending always with
Madehne's remoteness. Remote not only by reason
of birth and circumstance, but by reason of her glori-
ous beauty. She could never condescend to notice
him. Such thoughts begot dreams of ambition that
sent him to sleep at last, a world conqueror, and,
more wonderful still, the conqueror of the glorious
Madeline.

And that general invitation to Elmover .? Would
he ever be brave enough to venture there alone —
without Aunt Hester.? At least they could first make
a formal call together. It would be expected after
the garden-party.

CHAPTER IX

THE PURLIEUS OF EL.MOVEE
1.

The formal call was a failure.

" Not at home, madam ! " was the report of the
butler, though Jacob felt sure he had caught sight
of Lady Felmersdale at one of the upper windows.
He wanted to remonstrate, to urge the butler to more
careful search for her ladyship, who might so easily
be overlooked in that big house, but while he pon-
dered on these things Aunt Hester had delivered
their cards and the butler had taken a step backward
into the hall, plainly awaiting their departure in
order that he might close the door. ,

Still, the cards had been left as a reminder of his
presence, the cards which had been the subject of
considerable forethought and some perturbation.
They had been specially printed in Pelsworthy for
this occasion. Jacob had been determined to do the
thing properly, but he had had grave doubts as to
whether he should figure on them as Mr. J. L. Stahl
or simply as J. L. Stahl. Hester thought either
would do, not realizing the importance of being cor-
rect in such matters, and had even suggested that
" Jacob Stahl," with " Architect " in small capitals
underneath, would look professional — a suggestion
that contained two horrors : first, the hint of adver-
tising his profession, and, second, the disclosure of
his Christian name. That, at least, might be kept
secret, and he took advantage of the occasion to

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 105

advise Aunt Hester that he preferred to be called
James, or, better still, Jimmy.

" But why, dear ? " Aunt Hester had asked. To
her the name had become associated with the owner
of it, and had lost all other significance.

" Oh, I hate Bible names ! " replied Jacob.

" But is n't James a Bible name? "

" Oh yes ; but that 's different — it 's English, too
— the other makes you think of Abraham and Isaac
and all those Old Testament people. Really, Aunt
Hester, don't you think you might call me Jimmy?
Eric always calls me James."

Aunt Hester had promised to try.

Eric had been in Germany when the serious ques-
tion of the " Mr." or " no Mr." had to be settled,
and so, lacking high authority, Jacob had decided to
figure simply as J. L. Stahl. When the cards ar-
rived, he had regarded them with a very critical eye,
and had found no difficulty in persuading himself
that they " looked all right." Aunt Hester haul
agreed, but she would have done that in any case;
besides, she was no authority.

The call had been paid on the first day of Jacob's
holidays. He took three weeks in August, time that
might well be spent, according to Mr. Baker, in mak-
ing measured drawings of the fine old church of Ashby
Sutton. Previous efforts had not been altogether
satisfactory, and Jacob had determined to set about
the work in grim earnest, this year. Monday had
been wasted, the anticipation of going to Elmover had
precluded concentration, but Tuesday morning saw
him diligent with rod, tape, notebook and step-ladder,
engrossed in measuring the priest's door — a rare bit

106 JACOB STAHL

of late twelfth-century work, with deeply undercut
mouldings in a semicircular arch. Quite a remarkable
sprint of work he made that morning, and he dis-
played a fine conscientiousness in his regard to detail,
measuring every j oint in the stonework, rubble as well
as ashlar. But he found it dull working without an
admirer, and by twelve o'clock he was hoping that
Aunt Hester would disobey his injunctions not to in-
terrupt him, a hint thrown out at breakfast in a noble
spirit of determination, after a final resolve that he
would think no more of Elmover and its people, but
would devote himself to making the ablest and most
completely perfect drawing of that South door. The
ambition kept him at fever heat for an hour or more,
while his imagination ran ahead of the mechanical
work of taking measurements, and pictured delicate
details of the subtle delineation that was to follow.
Then his imagination began to tire, and the thoughts
of the drawing he was to make became stale and used
up. Physical calls for relaxation supervened, and
for a quarter of an hour he rested on a flat-topped
tomb and smoked a cigarette while he allowed his
thoughts to wander in fields dissociated from archi-
tecture. It required an effort to begin again when
the cigarette — the consumption of which he had as-
signed as a limit to this period of resting — could be
nursed no longer, and though he drove himself to re-
turn to his self-imposed task, he no longer worked
with the same enthusiasm. His mind now rejected
the picture of an ideal drawing, with the same distaste
that may be felt by other senses after the persistent
eating of one kind of food, and he employed his im-
agination in constructing a story of urgent necessity ;
he saw himself working against time to achieve some
notable object. As a stimulus this conception was not
so effective as the earlier one, but it served for a time.

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 107

One o'clock had been the hour fixed by Jacob as the
limit of his morning's work, but the last half-hour was
not fruitful of results, and he gave up finally twenty
minutes before his limit was reached. But Fearon's
step-ladder had to be returned, an undertaking that
involved a chat with the rector's factotum on the sub-
ject of fishing, and Jacob saved his reputation, so
far as Aunt Hester was concerned, by not arriving at
the cottage till nearly half-past one.

" You have done a good morning's work," was the
cheering reception that awaited him.

" Pretty fair," he replied ; " I have practically fin-
ished taking the measurements ; it 's rather tiring
sort of work, you know. You have to stand about
such a lot."

" Yes, dear, you must rest this afternoon," said
Aunt Hester.

" Yes, I think I 've earned a rest," responded
Jacob, who was beginning to feel now that he had
really put in a very full morning. " I can plot my
dimensions after tea."

" Don't do too much, dear," was the answer he re-
ceived, " after all you are having a holiday now."

No answer could have been more effective as a spur
to fresh endeavour, though no such effect had been
intended by Aunt Hester. Jacob became imbued with
fresh energy, and started to plot his drawing half
an hour after lunch. He would have worked after tea
if he had not arrived at a point where it became im-
perative to rub out half that he had already done,
owing to a mistake due to misreading his own figures.
These sets-back always discouraged him. Neverthe-
less the drawing was partly inked in by Thursday
afternoon, though the operation had been begun be-
fore the pencil work was properly completed and the
result gave indications of falling very far short of the

108 JACOB STAHL

design conceived at that diligent outset of Monday
morning. Then came a glorious irruption and for a
time the drawing made no further progress.

Jacob was gardening, weeding a bed in the little
strip of grass that separated the cottage from the
village street. It was a blazing August afternoon,
and he had discarded coat and waistcoat. He knelt
on a mat to save the knees of his trousers, leaning
over the border of marigolds to reach among the
stems of the rose-trees, one hand half buried in soft
earth, the other busily employed in uprooting every
intruding blade of wild growth — in such things he
was exceedingly thorough — while his mind was occu-
pied with a fairy story, by the light of which it would
seem that the sole chance of winning the Princess lay
in accomplishing the superhuman task imposed by the
jealous spirit of evil, who had ordained that one frag-
ment, however small, of alien growth not uprooted,
should condemn Jacob to the fate of his innumerable
predecessors, none of whom had been able to perform
such an incredibly difficult feat. So engrossed was
he that when some vehicle drew up beyond the open
palings which divided him from the road, he imputed
it to the baker without looking round, and wove the
tradesman into his story as an emissary of the jealous
spirit employed to divert his attention and frustrate
his design of perfection.

" Does n't Miss Stahl live here? "

Jacob rose hurriedly, and stood, earthy hands in-
stinctively held aloof from contact with his clothes,
speechless and awkward as at that first meeting at the
stile at Elmover, the only thought in his mind a desire
to push back a damp lock of hair that had fallen down

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 109

over his forehead, a desire impossible of accomplish-
ment with such hands.

" You 're Mr. Stahl, are n't you ? We met at the
garden-party." Madeline's eyes were smiling with a
friendly wish to relieve Jacob's embarrassment; her
sister, sitting in the governess cart, preserved her
usual expression of faint disapproval.

"I — I 've been weeding," stammered Jacob, striv-
ing to recover self-possession. " Excuse me being
in such a beastly mess. Won't you come in ? "

" Well, we came to know whether you would come
over to tea," said Madeline. " Only us, you know,"
she added, with a warm smile, as though to relieve
him of perplexity.

Jacob was smitten with an urgency to escape from
the invitation. The thing he had longed for, and
played with in his imagination, now only filled him
with fear and a wish to be alone — he had seen her
and spoken to her — in a way — it was enough,
splendid material for day-dreams. His reply came
instinctively.

" Oh ! thanks very much ! I don't know that I could
come this afternoon, I 'm afraid . . . my aimt 's
out. . . . She would wonder where I 'd gone." And
even as he spoke, his objective, logical, controlling self
was arguing, " Fool ! Here 's your chance. Don't
dream things, do them ! " Yet if Madeline had ac-
cepted his excuses, he would not have had the hardi-
hood to withdraw them, and the golden opportunity
would have gone, probably for ever; but she sensed
something of the spirit of his refusal, and suggested,
still smiling, that he " might leave a note for Miss
Stahl."

This was a bridge, it gave him back courage, this
glorious thought of leaving a note to say that he had
gone to Elmover, by invitation; that he had been

110 JACOB STAHL

fetched, in fact. He began mentally to word the
note even as he answered.

" I might do that, of course, I . . . But," with a
sudden accession of courage, " I say, I can't come like
this."

" You might like to wash," suggested Miss Fel-
mersdale.

Jacob smiled, and essayed, without success, to push
back that confounded wisp of hair with the back of
his hand. " Well, rather," he agreed. " Do you
mind waiting.'' Won't you come in.'* "

" We might go on to Mrs. Hales' and come back,"
put in the sister from the governess cart, speaking for
the first time.

" Oh ! good idea ! " said Madeline ; and then to
Jacob, " We 've got to go and see someone in the
village ; we '11 come back and fetch you. We shan't
be more than ten minutes." As she got back into the
cart and took the reins from her sister, she added,
" Then you are coming, are n't you .'' "

" Oh ! thanks very much ! " was all Jacob could find
to say as the cart swerved round and rattled away.
Madeline's driving was like that of Jehu.

4.

He found much to say to himself, however, as he
washed and dressed with a fervent haste that involved
misunderstandings with studs and a clean shirt, and,
as was his habit, he occasionally spoke his feelings
aloud. "Idiot! what did you want to refuse for?
Lord ! you must have looked a pretty sight, with your
hair all over your face and your hands inches thick
with mud, and a dirty shirt on. Hang these links !
Now I suppose you 're going to keep her waiting half
an hour. Beastly ungracious you were, too; looked

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 111

as if you did n't want to go in the least. Oh ! do
buck up."

But the governess cart was not kept waiting, for
when Jacob had at last succeeded in " making himself
decent," as he phrased it, always with an anxious
eye directed towards the road below his window, the
cart had not returned, and he had a few minutes to
cool down while he wrote this characteristic note to
Aunt Hester. " The Miss Felmersdales drove over
and have asked me to go back with them to tea.
Don't know when I shall be back — probably for
supper." Then, clean, and with some recovery of
self-respect, he waited at the gate, rather cold as to
the spine and in much the same nervous condition as
a patient before a serious operation.

" Sorry we 've been such a time," said Madeline, as
she whirled up to the cottage, the little grey pony
nearly sitting on his hind-quarters when brought to
an abrupt standstill. " Mrs. Hales is such a gossip,
you simply can't get away from her. Do you mind
sitting a bit more in front.'' It keeps the balance.
Oh, come up, you little beast ! " — this to the pony,
with an impetuous application of the whip. " What
are you waiting for? "

Jacob found words unnecessary as they cantered
up the steep hill out of the village, all Madeline's re-
marks being addressed to the pony, but when they
had reached the high level ground of the Common, the
quiet sister opened a poHte conversation by inquiring,

" Have you been long in Ashby Sutton ? "

*' Oh ! eight years — rather more," replied Jacob.
*' I was bom in London, at least, Camberwell : it 's a
suburb, you know." He would have enlarged upon
this subject, safe ground and sure as he found it, but
the younger Miss Felmersdale, with good intention
but chilling effect, broke in upon his description of

lis JACOB STAHL

South London, a description to which she had been
listening without the slightest interest. Her inter-
ruption took the form of another polite question:
did not Jacob admire the view from the Common?
she asked; and Jacob felt crushed. With an
access of sensitiveness, he inferred that his con-
versation had been a bore, and so, after a formal
acquiescence in approving the scenery, he relapsed
into monosyllabic answers to the endless string of
polite futilities which the younger Miss Felmersdale
had at her command.

The situation aggravated Jacob ; he wished to
shine before Madeline, who made no attempt to join
in the conversation. He had the male desire to " show
off," common to men and other animals in the mating
season, and if this conventional little dark-haired girl
of fifteen would have given him an opportunity, he
felt that he could have taken advantage of it; but
instead she crushed him with polite phrases — put
him in his place, as it were, a favoured visitor of lower
social status, to be treated with condescending ap-
proval. There was a strong vein of dull respecta-
bility in Nina Felmersdale, she had the making of a
district visitor, a Sunday-school teacher; she was
an acceptable type, reading the English code of life
— morals and manners — with docile reverence, obe-
dient to the letter of that which to her was infallible,
right beyond any possibility of dispute, the thing
that was and is and ever will be.

While Nina Felmersdale crushed Jacob into silence
with insipid and formal conversation, Madeline, with-
out deliberate intention, was silently provocative. At
seventeen she was not without experience, and the tilt
of her unformed mind was towards romance. Her
young idealism saw in any man by whom she was
temporarily attracted the possibility of perfection.

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 113

This because her vividly imaginative mind was con-
structive; it was not so much what she saw as what
she sought, that constituted her realities in this direc-
tion. Jacob attracted her by that dominating law
which ordains the union of opposites and so preserves
the average. There was this essential difference be-
tween Madeline and Jacob, that she sought instinc-
tively to live her dreams and he to dream his life. At
this moment she was, without conscious purpose, play-
ing the game of the woman who compels attraction.
By her reserve and withdrawal of interest she en-
hanced the power of her least submission, and at the
same time stimulated the active principle of pursuit
inherent in the masculine character.

6.

Tea on the Elmover lawn was an ordeal to Jacob.
Lady Felmersdale had had ulterior motives in sending
Madeline and Nina to Ashby Sutton. In their ab-
sence she had visited the sideboard, and now put a
strong restraint upon herself in the presence of a
stranger, which was manifested in a stiff formality,
a Camden Town correctitude, coloured but not struc-
turally altered by nineteen years' consciousness of a
title. Sir Anthony, understanding the situation, was
morose — " grumpy," as Madeline put it — and
Nina, with pursed mouth and disapproval in her
small dark eyes, maintained a prohibitive silence.
There was a social chill in the air which strongly
affected Jacob, who had no suspicion of its origin.
He sought an explanation in his own presence, and
construed the surly formality offered him without
politeness, into a deliberate intention to impress
upon him a sense of social inferiority. At a later
period of development he would have resented the

114 JACOB STAHL

attitude, but he was too young as yet in Felmersdale
graces, also he lacked knowledge and experience.

After tea and a period of uncomfortable silence, — ■
Sir Anthony reading a paper. Lady Felmersdale gaz-
ing somewhat too intently upon nothing in particular
— Jacob made a movement to rise, his intention a for-
mal leave-taking, but Madeline, who up to this time
had appeared to be lost in a fit of sulks, frowned at
him suddenly and shook her head. Jacob blushed.
He found himself taken into a confidence, though he
did, not understand its purpose, and followed Made-
line eagerly with his eyes for another sign.

" Nina ! "

" Well ? " The young lady addressed, looked up
inquiringly at her sister with raised eyebrows and a
slight inclination of her head towards her mother.

" Oh ! come here a minute," said Madeline, and then
to Jacob : " Excuse us for an instant, I want to
. . ." The sentence died away as she led Nina a few
paces from the tea-table.

Sir Anthony looked up over the top of his
paper, following his daughters' movements with his
eyes.

Jacob could hear nothing of the conference that
followed, but he saw an explanatory Madeline glanc-
ing every now and again at him and Lady Felmers-
dale; and a slightly resentful Nina apparently un-
willing to play the part assigned to her. Then Made-
line returned and addressed him.

" Would you care to see the garden ? " she asked.

" Oh ! thanks very much. Yes, I should. . . .
Thank you." Jacob wondered why it was so diffi-
cult to answer a simple invitation in appropriate
language.

" I may not see you again," grunted Sir Anthony,
proffering a limp hand — which he withdrew again

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 115

immediately Jacob had touched it — and with this
civility he got up and walked away. Lady Felmers-
dale rose quite steadily, and remarked : " You must
come again while this weather lasts ; don't wait for
an invitation. . . ."

" Come along," interrupted Madeline impatiently,
but Jacob hesitated; politeness demanded that he
should at least shake hands with his hostess, who was
now regarding him with an affectionate smile. But
Lady Felmersdale relieved him of this embarrassment,

— though she substituted another — by saying, with
a playful assumption of being hurt:

" Oh ! yes ; go along ! I know ! You don't want
to talk to an old woman like me ; you want to be off
with Maidie somewhere in the garden. ..."

"Oh! aren't you coming.''" broke in Madeline,
this time with real temper.

"Why don't you go?" simpered Lady Felmers-
dale. " You can't want to stop and talk to an old
woman like me. . . ."

Poor Jacob, utterly unable to understand why he
was so peremptorily ordered away by Madeline while
her mother was talking to him, stood confused and
uncomfortable. How could he turn his back on his
hostess while she was actually speaking to him, re-
garding him, too, with a rather fond smile.'' If he
must be rude to someone, it must be to the person

— however adorable — who was manifestly in the
wrong. But Nina saved him and put an end to the
dilemma, by interposing between him and her mother,
saying, " Oh ! Mumsie, I want you to come and look
at the puppies."

" Oh ! You !" replied Lady Felmersdale. "You 're
all alike. Never let me talk to the young men.
You 're jealous both of you, that 's what it is," and
as she was led off, almoct forcibly, by her younger

116 JACOB STAHL

daughter, she looked back over her shoulder and
waved Jacob a coquettish good-bye.

6.

" I thought you wanted to see the garden " —
Madeline was plainly in a hot temper — " but if you
prefer to go and see the puppies with Nina and
mother . . ." She finished her sentence with a
gesture.

" No, I don't. ... I want to see the garden,
only. . . ." Jacob paused and gathered courage.
" I could n't possibly come while Lady Felmersdale
was talking to me. Could 1? "

Madeline regarded him quietly. Already her
temper had cooled. " Of course, you don't under-
stand," she said.

" Understand? What? " asked Jacob, perplexed.

" Oh ! could n't you see mother was not quite her-
self to-day ? It 's the heat — she goes to sleep and
she 's funny like this when she wakes up ; not quite
herself. That 's why father was so rude to
you. . . ."

" I did n't notice anything. . . ."

" Very polite of you, but you can't be quite blind.
Are we going to stand here all night? "

" I 'm sorry." What he was sorry for exactly,
Jacob did not know, but as he followed Madeline,
who, as usual, found it difficult to walk when she
might run, he felt that a confidence had been estab-
lished, something which could n't be analyzed, but an
encouragement.

The garden, as such, did not occupy their atten-
tion for long. They made their way up behind the
house across the Italian garden, now a blaze of gera-
niums, across a sloping lawn broken up by ornamental

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 117

desi^s of flower-beds, till they reached a great gal-
vanized wire construction like a large aviary, covered
with climbing roses.

" Let 's sit down," said Madeline, " it 's so hot,"
and by way of keeping up her role of cicerone, she
added : " We call this the quarter-deck, this path,
you know, and this affair 's a rosary, of course. Do
you smoke.'' "

" Oh ! thanks, yes ! Don't you mind.'' " said Jacob,
producing a cigarette case.

" Rather not. It keeps the flies off. I smoke, too,
sometimes."

Jacob had read of women who smoked, he remem-
bered Cigarette in Ouida's novel, but those women
were all vivandieres, or little better, and his naive
mind was a little shocked, but he proffered his case,
nevertheless, with a hesitating " Would you care to
smoke now.'' The flies are rather a nuisance."

" Thanks, I don't mind," replied Madeline ; and
there followed a tremulous moment as Jacob assisted
with a match and nearly touched Madeline's finger.
He had never touched her yet, not even shaken
hands.

Madeline smoked her cigarette jerkily, drawing in
the smoke with half-closed eyes and blowing it out
with absorbed attention in the manner of the inex-
perienced; and Jacob watched her with a shade, the
first shade of disillusionment, but an exhilarating
sense of adventure. " They did these things in So-
ciety," was his thought. " He had been shocked be-
cause he was a country bumpkin, but he was learn-
ing " — indeed he was learning more rapidly than
he knew.

Their conversation had no particular point. They
talked first of the weather and then of London.
Madehne's London was a very different place to the

118 JACOB STAHL

London Jacob knew, and they compared notes and
discovered each their own ignorance. Jacob's Lon-
don was provincial, a little self-contained town of a
suburb, from which his only excursions had been to
that quarter north of Oxford Street which the elect
of the medical profession have made their own ; Wim-
pole, Harley and Welbeck Streets. They found com-
mon ground in Bond Street, but little to discuss.
Then they drifted on to Jacob's present occupation
— and future, and so by degrees he was warmed into
talking about himself and grew more at ease ; and
Madeline found him interesting because he was of a
type that she had never met before, because he was
intelligent, and because he attracted her in some way
that she did n't understand.

They had been in the rosary an hour when Nina
came and interrupted them, whispering something to
Madeline that made her frown impatiently.

" Oh ! all right," was her comment, and then to
Jacob : " I 'm sorry I 've got to go in to mother."

" I 'm afraid I have stayed too long. I ought to
be going," he said, and then the unnecessary Nina
interposed, and offered to show him the way across
the park.

" Oh ! don't you bother ! I know the way," re-
turned Jacob, as he watched the figure of Madeline
flying across the lawn. He had meant to shake hands
with her, but she had gone with a friendly nod, and
Jacob felt that by this curt leavetaking she had can-
celled the joy of that hour's conversation. He was
a little rude to Nina, protesting that she really
need n't come with him, and she took him at his word,
which fitted well enough with her own inclination.

He loitered across the garden, skirting the back of
the house, and made his way to the side gate which
let him into the spinny, and so to the ladder stile

THE PURLIEUS OF ELMOVER 119

where he had first seen Madeline. Arrived there, he
perched himself in the same position he had occupied
on that memorable occasion.

Then the unexpected happened, for again he saw
Madeline running towards him down the narrow
footpath.

" Oh ! I 'm so glad I caught jou," she panted as
she came up to him. " Mother asked me to find you
and say she was sorry she was n't able to entertain
you this afternoon, but will you come and have tea
on Tuesday ? "

" Oh ! Thanks. Yes. I should like to, awfully."

" Au revoir, then." Madeline looked at him with
a new expression. " You will come, won't you.'* " she
said, holding out her hand.

Jacob made no reply, but he looked straight into
her eyes for a moment, and Madeline laughed a little
self-conscious laugh, tightened her grasp of his hand
for a fraction of a second, and then ran off down the
path.

At the end of the path, she turned and waved to
him.

For the first half of his walk home Jacob's exalta-
tion bore him on wings, then physical tiredness
asserted itself and his legs dragged, but still joy
surged over him in waves.

" You look tired, dear," said Aunt Hester when
he came into the cottage. " Have you had a good
time?"

" I am rather tired," replied Jacob. " Yes ! I 've
had a very nice time."

CHAPTER X

DEVELOPMENT
1.

The drawing of the priest's door made no progress
between Thursday and Tuesday. Two or three times
Jacob uncovered it and laid it on the table, but a
strong disinclination for work overtook him on each
occasion. Instead, he sat making aimless httle
sketches on the corner of that large sheet of hand-
made paper; sketches that strove to convey the im-
pression of a young girlish face, and that were rubbed
out again with sudden vigour and little spurts of
temper.

" Won't it go ? " asked Aunt Hester, coming in
during an interlude of fierce erasure.

" It is n't a question of ' going ' exactly," returned
Jacob, crossly, " I can't work. I don't know what 's
the matter with me. I hate the beastly thing."

Aunt Hester sighed. It had required no gift of
insight to diagnose Jacob's malady, it was written
plainly in his face, his speech, his restlessness, his
abstraction, but Hester had given no sign that she
guessed what was in his mind, and, for once, she feared
confidence, for it was not in her heart to encourage
him in what she believed to be hopeless, however great
her love and sympathy, or, perhaps, because of it.

Everything was confessed on Tuesday evening,
however, after the second visit to Elmover, a short
visit which ended abruptly in Jacob's being driven
back by Lady Felmersdale and Nina, an entirely un-

DEVELOPMENT 1381

satisfactory visit in every way. Madeline had been
childishly merry with her mother and sister, but had
not vouchsafed Jacob an encouraging glance, she
had, in fact, been almost rude in her neglect of him.
Jacob put his own construction on her attitude, took
the whole burden of it upon himself, read into it a
contemptuous dismissal of his worship, and so, after
supper, he stared moodily out of the window, sighed
like a tempest, and contemplated early death.

Later, when the lamp was lit, he essayed to smoke
a pipe, and pretended to read, while Aunt Hester,
apparently engrossed in darning her household linen,
watched him and waited for the confidence she knew
could be delayed no longer. Presently Jacob at-
tempted to relight his pipe for the tenth time, shut
his book with an air of determination, and announced
that he was going to bed.

Aunt Hester looked up at the clock. " You 're
early to-night," she said.

" Yes. I 'm sick of everything. I want to go
to sleep and forget," returned Jacob.

"What is it, dear?"

" Oh ! nothing." Jacob got up and went over to
the fireplace and knocked out his empty pipe with
careless diligence. From this retreat — he was be-
hind his aunt's back — he adventured the remark
that there did n't seem to be anything worth living
for.

** Why to-night more particularly ? " inquired
Hester.

" Oh ! I don't know," said Jacob, still aimlessly tap-
ping his pipe on the bars of the grate, and then, " I
suppose you can't guess ? "

"Is it something to do with Miss Felmersdale? "
Hester was still engrossed in her needlework, and did
not look up.

1«2 JACOB STAHL

" Yes ! Something. I suppose I 'm an awful ass.
It is n't likely she 'd ever take any notice of me
— only, last time I went over there I thought, some-
how, she might. She was rather jolly to me, you
know — when she said good-bye. Of course she
did n't mean anything really, only it meant a lot
to me. . . ."

" You '11 soon get over it, dear ! "

The inevitable, futile consolation, always true and
never to be believed. Even as Hester spoke it, she
recognized its futility, and putting down her work,
turned towards Jacob, all love and sympathy. He
was only twenty-one, and his reply was as inevitable
and futile as her attempt at consolation.

" No ! I shan't ever get over it ! " Then, realizing
that his statement lacked any power of carrying con-
viction until elaborated, he continued : " I fell in love
with her years ago, when she was quite little — I saw
her in the park at Elmover ! It 's ... it 's fate."

Hester was practical, she wasted no more time in
cliches.

" Come and tell me all about it," she said,
for she knew that a trouble such as Jacob's loses
much of its bitterness when it has been put into
words.

When full and free confession had been made,
Hester hesitated. She took an entirely different
view of the facts, and drew an inference directly
opposed to Jacob's. She hesitated because she feared
that this boy and girl love-affair might grow, not be-
cause she thought it was over and done with. She
made a mistake as the result of the hesitation, be-
cause in the pause she forgot everything but Jacob's
immediate happiness, but it was not a mistake that
in any way affected the issue — no word or influence
of Hester's could have swerved the outcome.

DEVELOPMENT 123

** I don't think you need despair, yet, dear," was
what she said, and Jacob brightened visibly. This
was the consolation he sought before all else.

"Don't you? . . . Really? . . . Why? . . .
Why don't you? ..." Jacob pressed eagerly, and
Hester tried to encourage and to hedge at the same
time.

" Well, dear," she began, still hesitating, a little
unwilling, perhaps, to elucidate the feminine psy-
chology of Madeline's attitude. " Miss Felmersdale
gave you some — some encouragement on Thursday,
didn't she?"

" I suppose so — yes, I thought it tremendously
encouraging."

" And afterwards, I suspect, she thought, perhaps,
she had gone a little too far — knowing you so little,
and she was waiting for you to take the next
step. ..." Hester paused, her analysis sadly in-
complete, and Jacob, deeply introspective, interpo-
lated " I wonder."

" But, Jacob — Jimmy, dear, what can come of it,
even if Miss Felmersdale did learn to care for you,
in that way? "

" Do you really think it 's possible she might? "
Jacob could not, as yet, consider any other problem.

" Of course she might, dear," persisted Hester,
" but even if she did, what then ? What could come of
it? How ..."

" Heaven ! " interrupted Jacob, ecstatically. " Just
— heaven. I can't think beyond that point — yet.
I don't want to. I leave all the rest on the knees of
the gods. But is it possible; do you really, really
think it 's possible? "

For this time Hester ceased remonstrance, but it
was then in her mind to return to that attitude when
she could find her nephew in a more plastic mood.

1«4 JACOB STAHL

Afterwards, in the dark, quiet hours, she threshed out
the whole problem. It seems as if in this thing,
the determined, practical woman was untrue to the
principles of her own character; but she was shrewd
and far-seeing enough to know when she encountered
a force too strong for her to oppose. She recognized
such a force here. This was no matter to be dealt
with in the manner of Jacob's exercises. There,
inertia had to be overcome, this was a positive, dy-
namic force that, if faced, must be resisted. And
above and beyond all questions of common sense was
Hester's love for Jacob. " Was it for his ultimate
good," she argued, " to attempt any drastic remedy
for his madness.? " She debated giving up her cot-
tage and moving to some village on the further side
of Pelsworthy, beyond the sphere of Felmersdale
influence. Then, supposing the present passion to
be outlived, would not another, possibly a worse, take
its place.? Hester thought of her brother, and from
that came to thinking that Jacob's love-affair was in
its way a beautiful thing, however hopeless from a
worldly point of view. And if tragedy came, a bar
upon Jacob's visits to Elmover, a forcible separation,
a removal of Madeline beyond the sphere of attrac-
tion, would not these things, finally, help to strengthen
him and to keep his mind free from evil? For of any
suspicion of evil in connection with this affair, Hester
had never a single thought; that and the possibility
of any happy issue, she did not take into considera-
tion. Thus in her practical, unimaginative way,
Hester came to a decision. After that night, though
she suffered occasional doubts, her help and sympa-
thies were enlisted on Jacob's behalf. Hester, it may
be noticed in conclusion, always anticipated an un-
happy outcome for Jacob's love-affairs - — but she
never considered her own interests; in this as in all

DEVELOPMENT 125

other things touching Jacob's welfare she was su-
premely unselfish.

2.

The next morning, Jacob was so far emboldened
as to plan a walk to the Elmover stile, and after some
faltering and much nervousness, he set out across the
Common, lingering by the way and searching his
mind for excuses, in preparation for that which he
did not dare to anticipate. When he was still a
quarter of a mile or more from the outskirts of Elm-
over, his loitering culminated in a dead stop. Argu-
ing back and forwards with himself, he decided that he
would look such a " silly ass " if she should happen
to come through the plantation and find him mooning
on that particular stile. Acute self-consciousness
overtook him, he blushed, and with a sudden deter-
mination took a course at right angles to his original
direction, a course which led him down the slope of
the hill. At the bottom, he sat down on a convenient
hump of brown grass that had once been an ant-hill,
and studied the meandering trickle of the little brook
which runs across the Common and then dives under-
ground to emerge as a clear spring some half-mile
nearer to Ashby Sutton. Running water always held
a fascination for Jacob.

It was a glorious day; a still, hot morning of
August sunshine. The brown-green of the Common
stretched up before him to a thin, hazy sky-line that
seemed to wriggle with the heat, and against the light
the little humped bushes of blackthorn, distorted and
bent with the force of winter winds, looked dead and
parched. Jacob turned sideways and regarded the
cool, clear green of the forest trees in the Elmover
plantation. " Exquisite," he murmured without lim-

126 JACOB STAHL

ited application of the adjective, and then with a fall
to bathos he added: " Phew! but is n't it hot? " and
fell to fanning himself with his straw hat.

The trees of Elmover continued to hold his atten-
tion. He could see the break where the path ran out
to the ladder stile, and the sun just caught the stile
itself, the flight of six steps and the crossed supports
at the top, a little, remote step-ladder, dwarfed by
the magnificence of the trees, but the entrance to
Paradise, Thinking of it as an entrance, Jacob over-
looked the fact that it was equally an exit, and when
a little bunch of white, distorted by the heat haze,
showed momentarily on the top, and then flickered
down to be hidden by a dip in the ground, Jacob's
heart gave a jump, and then began to beat to
suffocation.

What should he do? It might be . . . and if it
was, she would n't see him there, down by the brook.
He stood up and gazed and saw nothing, waited for
an eternity, and then began to climb slowly back up
the hill towards the path. Yes ! It was. She was
coming up the rise, carrying her hat, and evidently
going over to Ashby Sutton, Jacob was overcome
with nervousness; he felt an overpowering desire to
hide. Would she think he had come out to look for
her? He compromised by turning his back resolutely
on Elmover, and took a diagonal path up the slope
towards the village. " She must see me," he argued,
" and she need n't take any notice of me, if she
does n't want to. I can pretend not to know she is
there till she is past me, or just take off ray
hat."

So with a step that lagged and grew slower and
slower, he sauntered back across the Common, reso-
lutely keeping his eyes away from Elmover, but
listening tensely for the sound of a step that should

DEVELOPMENT 127

overtake him. Slowly and yet more slowly he walked,
and no one overtook him.

Two hundred yards behind, Madeline restraining
her impetuosity with some trouble, screwed up her
mouth and regarded Jacob's back ! " I 'm not going
to run after him," she said to herself. " He must
have seen me. If he does n't want to speak to me,
he need n't ..."

At last Jacob stopped, took off his hat and wiped
his forehead, hesitated, and then turned quickly.
Madeline was pulling a stick out of a hedge two
hundred yards away. She was not looking in his
direction ; she seemed quite unconscious of his pres-
ence. Jacob wiped his forehead again and called him-
self a fool. Then he swore faintly but with a soft
insistence, small, foolish repetitions of one word, the
only expletive he ever used. " Damn ! " said Jacob,
by way of tonic ; " damn ! " and then, taking his
courage in his hands, he made a bee-line in the direc-
tion of Madeline, with the blood singing in his ears
and his knees trembling.

The desifed stick was not easily to be disengaged;
it was not free when Jacob had reached the path.

" May I — can I help you .'' " he said.

Madeline turned with composure, physically heated,
but socially calm. " Hallo ! " she said. " Hot, is n't
it.?* Never mind about the stick, it won't do, it's
too big."

" Yes, it is hot," replied Jacob, and for a moment
they stood and looked at one another.

" Let 's go down to the spring," said Madeline,
breaking a silence that was becoming uncomfortable ;
" there 's some shade there."

" Oh ! yes, rather ! " Jacob wished to express warm
approval of the project, then he added: " Were you
going over to the village.'' "

128 JACOB STAHL

" No ! I was n't going anywhere particular. I got
sick of lessons and told Mumsie I had a headache,
and she told Miss Peares I need n't do any more,
so I just came out for a walk. Is n't it a ripping
day?"

" Ripping ! " agreed Jacob with enthusiasm. His
speech was chiefly of the weather till they reached
the spring.

8.

The spring comes out of the earth at the bottom
of a cleft, driven into the hill of the Common; it
looks as if it might have been a railway cutting that
had been intended, and stopped prematurely. Made-
line went ahead, clambering easily down the steep
slope, but Jacob had to follow more warily, holding on
to the stems of the lank and rather barren bushes that
grew on the incline. When he reached the bottom,
Madeline was paddling her hands in the little basin of
water that receives the cold stream from the hill.

" Jolly and cool," remarked Madeline.

** Yes, is n't it.'' " was all Jacob found to say, and
by way of giving emphasis and feeling to his appre-
ciation, he, too, squatted down and dabbled. He was
desperately anxious to be bright and amusing, but
his thoughts stammered, and lucid speech was beyond
him. Madeline wringing her chilled hands came to
his rescue by demanding a handkerchief, which was
proffered with enthusiasm. Fortunately, as he noted
with some relief, the handkerchief was passably clean.

From this incident onward, progress was rapid.
Madeline returned the damp handkerchief by throwing
it at its owner. The action was, perhaps, reminis-
cent of the flirtations of village girls, as observed on
festive occasions, but it established easier relations.

DEVELOPMENT 129

" Schoolroom " was a word that occurred to the mind,
offering at once explanation of a forwardness not to
be abused or misunderstood, and suggestion of a con-
venient attitude that might be adopted. Jacob
realized that he had been too serious ; he took his cue
and essayed the frivolous.

Soon they were splashing water at each other,
Jacob with restraint, Madeline with intention, and
when that palled they were both laughing.

" Are you wet? " asked Jacob.

" Not nearly so wet as you are," returned Madeline,
but still she was wet enough — a wetness almost en-
tirely due to her own efforts — to demand further
recourse to the damp handkerchief, and Jacob had
become bold enough to proffer assistance in its use.
He trembled when permitted to help in the dabbing
of the white blouse and grew nervous, hot and afraid.
He became suddenly deferential again, polite and
formal. He would have drawn away and resumed
distant relations (he had been so near her, her face
sun-warmed and flushed had almost touched him, his
hands had hovered over her shoulders, a strand of
wonderful hair had lain for a moment over his wrist.
All this was sacrilege. In his heart and mind was
adoration, remote, detached worship), but Madeline
held the situation.

" You are a rum pup," she said, half laughing.
" Why are you so serious, all of a sudden .'' "

" Am I serious ? I suppose — I don't know . . ."

Madeline looked at him, smilingly, provokingly,
and Jacob looked back at her with a new and startling
question rising in his mind. " Did she expect him to
kiss her? " This was a new situation, something that
in dreams took an entirely different aspect. His
imagination had played him false.

" I say," he stammered, his face burning, " do

ISO JACOB STAHL

you — I mean it is n't possible, is it, that you like
me a little?"

It amounted to a proposal, but Madeline main-
tained the atmosphere of the schoolroom.

" Oh, I don't know ! Perhaps — You are so
awfully serious."

She turned her head slightly away from him,
waiting; but Jacob kept quite still, staring at her;
trying to understand this new wonder, " Perhaps
she cared for him, for Mm! "

It is doubtful how long the situation might have
lasted if Madeline had not continued the initiative.
It was a small indication, but enough. They were
sitting side by side on the sloping bank, and she
moved an inch or two nearer to him — there was
just the faintest suggestion of " snuggling " in that
movement.

Jacob, trembling, laid his hand on hers that was
still damp and cold with spring water, and then,
fearfully, almost religiously, he bent forward and
kissed that warm, delicate, fragrant cheek.

The very ghost of a kiss it was, made without any
movement of the lips, just the slightest contact
without pressure.

There came to them the sound of one faint
" Boom " from the distant church of Ashby Sutton.

" Oh, my goodness, it 's one o'clock ! I must
simply fly ! " exclaimed Madeline, and before Jacob
had quite recovered his sense of reality she was on
her feet and scrambling up the bank. He followed,
calling to her, " One moment, I 'm coming," but she
didn't stop for him. At the top of the bank she
turned for a moment, looked down, and waved to him,
but when Jacob had reached level ground, she was a
hundred yards away, running with her head down.

Jacob watched her out of sight.

DEVELOPMENT 131

There are two points to be noted, immediately
consequent upon this kiss. The first that Jacob did
not want to go home and dream about it, he wanted
to see Madeline again, to be with her instantly. The
second that when interrogated as to her movements,
Madeline made no mention either to her mother or
to Nina — though the latter was the recipient of
most confidences — that she had met or even seen
" that rather nice boy, young Stahl." The descrip-
tion is borrowed from Lady Felmersdale. These
two points each involve a distinct change of attitude.

That night Aunt Hester was again wakeful.
Jacob's elation hadbeen too manifest for him to hide
his triumph as he had Intended — a determination
arrived at during his walk home — but his account
had been abridged, there were reservations. Hester,
pondering, worrying and speculating, was chiefly
concerned as to the feelings and intentions — if she
had any — of Madeline. Was the child in earnest,
or merely a flirt.? To Hester the problem resolved
itself Into these two definite alternatives. Hester
frequently made this mistake in considering her
problems.

CHAPTER XI

BENNETTS IN OPPOSITION
1.

Jacob's holiday was extended from three weeks to
six that year. It might have undergone further
expansion, but Aunt Hester's silent reproach was
not to be borne any longer, and Jacob acknowledged
defeat at last, unwillingly. He had made a stand
for freedom and boldly resisted authority. He was
of age, and for the matter of that independent, now,
financially, and if he chose to stay away from the
office, in which he was only a pupil, that was his own
affair. This was Jacob's first quarrel with Hester,
and he became very hot, assertive and ill-tempered
over it, — dehberately ill-tempered to give himself
more courage — and Hester, at first, made the mis-
take of being authoritative, which gave her nephew
the opportunity of saying things he could never
have said if she had pleaded and not scolded. Jacob
never saw Hester's tears, nor guessed that she had
shed any; he was engrossed in greater matters, at
Elmover almost every day, and he had become impa-
tient of restraint. After that quarrel there was an
atmosphere of unhappiness and uneasiness in the
cottage for three days, and then followed a recon-
ciliation — which broke up the old relations for
ever.

" We can't go on like this, Aunt Hester," Jacob
said. " You must see, really, that I am not a boy
any longer."

BENNETTS IN OPPOSITION 133

Hester had seen it, seen it with bitterness and re-
sentment, but she only said with a sigh: " I don't
want to go on like this, dear, you know that."

" Can't you see things from my point of view? "
asked Jacob.

" But what can come of this Elmover affair.? "
replied Hester.

Jacob was on his feet, moving restlessly about the
cottage. " I don't know, I don't know — yet," he
said. " I suppose I shall have to say something to
Sir Anthony, soon. Lady Felmersdale knows, of
course, and she does n't seem to mind. . . ."

" Perhaps she thinks you are both too young to
be serious."

" Yes, perhaps. I don't know — I don't want to
bother about the future, not yet, I want to enjoy
the beautiful present."

" Does n't Sir Anthony guess ? You are up there
nearly every day."

" I hardly ever see him. I — I don't always go
up to the house, and when I do, he is not there,
generally."

" I suppose you don't go except when you know
he 's out."

" That is n't a very nice way of putting it, is it.?
/ don't mind seeing him a bit, only they — only she
— I mean it seems better not to, somehow." Jacob
could not bring himself to pronounce the beloved
name except in the presence of its owner, and then
the saying of it became a term of endearment.

" I don't see what can come of it," repeated
Hester.

" I don't see why we should n't — be married. Not
yet, of course."

" On a hundred and twenty pounds a year ? "

" Oh ! Lord no ! But I 've got a profession. Do

134 JACOB STAHL

you think I 've no chance of making any money,
myself? "

" But you 're neglecting your profession, dear,"
said Aunt Hester, gently, bringing back the con-
versation to the point of difference.

*' Oh ! neglecting it ! " Jacob was becoming angry
again. " For a week or two. What possible dif-
ference can that make.*^ I shall work harder than
ever when I get back, but I must have this time,
now. I shall never have another time like this.
Besides. . . ."

" Yes ? Besides what ? " prompted Hester as
Jacob hesitated.

" Does it matter ? " asked Jacob. '* You must see
that the thing has got to be. You could n't ask me
to give it up, could you? "

Hester sighed. She felt weak and very desolate.
She wanted her boy back again, and was willing to
pay almost any price to get him. " I have n't
asked you to give it up," she compromised
feebly.

"Well, couldn't you try not to worry about it?
Can't you trust me? " Jacob's tone was petulant.

" I '11 try, dear," said Hester, and kissed him.
After that there was quite a reconciliation. It al-
most seemed, for a time, as if the old relations had
been renewed, but Hester knew that that was impos-
sible. She had been first, and she was now undeni-
ably second in Jacob's thoughts.

After this she entered no open remonstrances, but
Jacob became continually more conscious of her dis-
approval with regard to his absence from Mr. Baker's
office, and so gave in, at last. He was assisted by
his own consciousness of the fact that he was wasting
his time. There was the future to be thought of, he
admitted that, but he preferred to forget it in the

BENNETTS IN OPPOSITION 186

glorious present. The future would be all right, he
had wonderful dreams about the future, on occasion
he even had designs on the premiership.

2.

It was a horrible experience, that return to the
study of architecture. As Jacob toiled up the hill
to Mr. Baker's office, the smell of Pelsworthy streets
choked him with dusty familiarity.

It was one of those perfect September days which
have a character all their own. There had been a
slight frost in the night, and the grass was heavy
with dew. The hedges had been hung with a rich
lace- work of spider's web. The air was very still,
giving promise of a hot day when the sun had dried
the dew. The smoke from cottage chimneys went
up in a straight column, gradually fading into the
hazy blue of the sky. An occasional brown leaf fell
softly through the heavy green of the still living
foliage, rustling and tapping as it slid from branch
to branch. In the big elms behind the church, the
rooks were congratulating one another on the promise
of the morning and comparing notes as to the frost
in the night, all cawing at once and apparently en-
joying themselves amazingly.

" Fancy wasting a day like this in Pelsworthy,"
murmured Jacob, as he walked to the station, and
being in a mood to find fault with all that called him
from the clean, sweet loveliness of that September
morning, he worked himself into a fine state of dis-
gust with all that was Pelsworthy.

The smell of the office struck him as unbearably
mouldy and stale as he opened the half-glass inner
door that gave access to the room in which he worked,
and there was Bennetts hard at it as usual, tracing.

186 JACOB STAHL

as though there were no finer thing in the world than
this dusty, dingy, degrading business of designing
horrible shelters from the freshness of the sweet
air.

" So you have condescended to come back? " was
Bennetts' ironical greeting. " I thought you had set
up business on your own account in Ashby Sutton.? "

Jacob smiled feebly. How could he reply to these
stupid, vulgar jests of the incurably bourgeois.''
What could he possibly have in common with this
middle-class Bennetts.''

Mr. Baker came out of the inner office, brisk, fussy
and energetic.

" Eh.'* " he said on catching sight of Jacob. " Eh?
Ah! of course, of course. Well, well, been enjoying
the fine weather ? Um ! Ah ! Now ! what about those
tracings, eh? Bennetts, you 'd better get on with the
details. Come now, all the fresher for a rest, eh?
How 's your aunt? "

" She 's quite well, thank you," murmured Jacob,
feeling rather like a schoolboy in trouble, and strug-
gling to regard the little round figure of Mr. Baker
with Elmover contempt.

"Ah! indeed. Capital! Capital! Well, well.
Now ! Bennetts, copy these letters, will you ? I Ve
got to catch the 10.25 to Nassington," and Mr. Baker
suddenly looked very stern and retreated into his own
office with an air of being hard pressed for time.

Everything going on as usual, the same old dreary
uninteresting round, but Jacob could not resist a feel-
ing of delight that Mr. Baker, at least, would be away
all day — Nassington was at the other end of the
diocese. He determined to take two hours for lunch,
and leave early, regardless of all sneers and sarcasms
from Bennetts. After all, he was n't paid for his
time, he need n't come at all if he did n't want to.

BENNETTS IN OPPOSITION 137

Why should n't he take the afternoon off and go to
Elmover?

" You 'd better come and work over here," re-
marked Bennetts. " I 've got the big board. If you
take this tracing up, you '11 never get it flat again."

" I suppose we can move the board," snapped
Jacob. " It is n't glued down, is it ? " He felt a
strong disinclination to work anywhere but at his own
seat.

" Bit Mondayish, are n't you.'' " queried Bennetts.
" You can move the board if you like — I thought it
would save trouble for you to work here, that 's all ! "

" I don't care." Jacob hesitated and relented
somewhat, but he still felt a distaste to being moved.
He had dreamed dreams of Elmover in that place of
his, dreams that had materialized in the most aston-
ishing manner. " Don't you bother," he added ;
" I '11 do it." However, they moved the boards
together.

Jacob worked that morning. It seemed preferable
to talking to Bennetts, and tracing allows one plenty
of opportunity for dreams. Moreover, he was dread-
ing some allusion to Elmover. It was quite evident
that Bennetts could never be made a recipient of any
confidences that touched the sacred things of life.
Never had Bennetts seemed so incurably middle-class,
as he did that morning. He had n't shaved, and he
had a Pelsworthy accent which Jacob had never no-
ticed before. Therefore Jacob worked, and if he had
short intervals of gazing at the ground glass in front
of him which hid the hot Pelsworthy street, there was
excuse, one must wait for the ink to dry. He was
not at ease concerning the announcement he thought
of making as to his proposed absence in the after-
noon. He regretted that he had not done the bold
thing and mentioned his intention to Mr. Baker.

138 JACOB STAHL

There was no reason why he should n't do as he hked,
but it meant a fuss ; Bennetts might be " funny," or
he might be nasty, there were precedents for both atti-
tudes. Jacob wavered, uncertain whether the after-
noon was worth the bother. He reflected that even
if he went home, it was long odds against his seeing
" anyone " — a convenient word that had in Jacob's
mind a very limited application. She knew that he
would be at the office all day, and would not be expect-
ing him.

And then Aunt Hester would be hurt, and think his
new-made resolution to work hard did not amount to
much. At last he decided to stick to his tracing, and
became conscious of a feeling of relief. He hated
the mental effort necessary to face an unpleasant
situation.

Later he saw the finger of a kindly fate in his
decision.

A little after three a timid knock came at the outer
door.

" Come in ! " bellowed Bennetts, but no one replied.
It was cattle market at Pelsworthy on Monday, and
the occupants of Mr. Baker's office were used to the
shy invasions of country drovers, who mistook the
little lobby for the entrance to the next-door public-
house.

" Some fool of a yokel," murmured Jacob without
looking up.

The knock was repeated, very timidly.

" Oh, come in ! " bawled Bennetts, getting down
from his stool. The door was opened nervously, and
Jacob, turning, saw Nina Felmersdale, very red and
awkward, standing in the entrance. He was off his
stool in a moment, and Nina turned to him with
relief.

** Oh, Jimmy ! " — to such familiarity had he come,

BENNETTS IN OPPOSITION 139

even with the reserved Nina, in those five weeks —
" we 're driving, and we thought, perhaps, you 'd
care to come back with us — can you ? " Nina paused
and looked askance at Bennetts, who was absorbed
in his drawing, but pink as to the ears ; then she
dropped her voice, " Maidie would n't come. Will
you meet us at the Angel, in about half an hour? "

" Yes, rather, of course I will." It did n't occur
to Jacob until Nina had gone that it would have been
wiser to have accompanied her. When he came back
into the office he found Bennetts, still a little pink, but
no longer absorbed in his drawing.

" That 's Miss Felmersdale, I suppose," he re-
marked ironically.

Jacob stopped and looked at him. There was a
silence which seemed to last quite a long time, while
Jacob regarded Bennetts with a long and speculative
stare that gradually lost focus, so that Bennetts felt
that Jacob was no longer looking at him, but through
him.

" No," said Jacob at last, " it 's not."

" Taken up with someone else.'' " asked Bennetts.

" That was Miss Felmersdale's younger sister," re-
turned Jacob. His vanity could not allow of such a
misconception, but Bennetts obviously did not believe
him.

"Oh! is it.?" His grin evidenced his scepticism.
" Getting on, are n't you? "

Jacob was overcome with anger at his own inability
to make Bennetts comprehend. For a moment he
struggled with a desire to shout at him, swear at him,
call him a fool, but he realized the futility of these
methods. Instead he controlled himself with an
effort, shrugged his shoulders, and proceeded to
change his coat.

" You 're not going, are you? " inquired Bennetts,

140 JACOB STAHL

with a change of tone, as he watched the proceeding.
" That tracing 's got to go off to-night."

" It can go to hell for all I care," said Jacob as he
walked out of the office.

The slow, dogged Bennetts was offended. You
picture him — this broad-shouldered, black-haired,
square-headed man, with his strongly marked, slightly
arched eyebrows — heavily angry, even passionate,
throwing down his square and pencils and going over
to inspect the tracing on Jacob's board, then with a
sullen resolution taking up the uncompleted work,
and setting himself to finish it, sulkily, morosely, with
a slow, determined anger that would last for days.

CHAPTER Xn

ELMOVER PRESEEVES
1.

It was a day of portent, that twenty-third of Septem-
ber; a day that began with the depression incident
on the return to an atmosphere of office work which
contrasted so distressingly with the atmosphere of
Elmover; a day that brought unanticipated relief
in the afternoon, and a return to holiday delights ; a
day that ended with a blow. . . .

Jacob had not to wait long in the precincts of the
Angel Hotel, before Madeline and Nina appeared.
Madeline was in one of her happiest moods, gay, irre-
sponsible, and yet withal so gloriously affectionate,
that Nina — who for once had been allowed to drive

— spent much time in reminding her sister and Jacob
that they were not the only occupants of the gov-
erness cart, and that there were, moreover, various
other people in the world who — according to Nina

— were of an inquisitive and tell-tale disposition,
people represented by labourers in the fields and occa-
sional foot-passengers on the road, any one of whom
not only might, but probably would, recognize the
occupants of the governess cart, " and you never
know who they may n't tell," was Nina's conclusion.
Nina was by nature afraid of being found out, even
when there was nothing to find; Madeline knew no
control but her own wishes.

" We don't care, dear, do we .'* " she said to Jacob.
" Rather not," responded Jacob, with enthusiasm.

U% JACOB STAHL

Was it possible that only half an hour ago he had
been tracing tedious plans in Mr. Baker's office, in the
company of the middle-class Bennetts?

They had tea in the schoolroom, a merry un-
chaperoned, delightful tea, and afterwards Madeline
proposed that she and Jacob should go up to the
woods that run down to join Elmover grounds on the
Pelsworthy side, woods where blackberries were abun-
dant, and the hazel-nuts " practically " ripe.

" You are silly," protested Nina ; " you 're safe
to get caught some time, and then there '11 be a fine
old row."

" Oh ! it 's all right," laughed Madeline. " She 's
— you know " — an irreverent allusion to Lady Fel-
mersdale — " and father 's gone over to shoot at
Fordham."

" Well, I think you are awfully silly — both of
you," said Nina with emphasis ; " you '11 go too far.
Mother 's just as likely as not to send for you."

" Not she," replied Madeline with a look of con-
tempt ; " she j oily well wants us out of the way."

Lady Felmersdale's unhappy weakness was grow-
ing ever more pronounced. In the Felmersdale family
the subject was not referred to openly. Between Sir
Anthony and his daughters there was a tacit under-
standing, no more — the thing was never spoken of.
Only between Madeline and Nina had there been any
exchange of confidences, and even they dealt chiefly
in innuendo when touching the mysterious topic. It
is, therefore, unlikely that an outsider, such as Jacob,
would have been let into the secret had he not made
the discovery for himself, and, indeed, both Madeline
and Nina had done their best to keep him from that

ELMOVER PRESERVES 148

discovery. But one evening at Elmover, the only
evening Jacob had ever spent there — Sir Anthony
had gone up to town, a rare incident — Lady Fel-
mersdale had been in an unhappily gay and amorous
condition, and despite the angry efforts of her daugh-
ters had insisted on kissing Jacob. It was a mem-
ory that made him feel hot and uncomfortable for
many subsequent days — the stout, flushed woman,
with a silly smile, pushing aside the physical oppo-
sition of the two distressed girls, and saying with an
inane laugh, " Oh ! you go away, you two, you want
him all to yourselves, / know. You go away," and
then to Jacob, " We don't want 'em, do we — they 're
only kids, only kids." And he saw himself stammer-
ing, distressfully looking to Msideline for assistance,
making mute inquiry as to what he ought to do. . . .
A horrible memory. . . . Madeline had explained
everything to him next day ; made to him, in a mood
of appeal, a confession of her own weakness, her
shirked attempts to prevent the occurrence of these
horrors. . . . She had even asked Jacob to help
her. . . .

S.

The blackberries were not very attractive. It had
been a dry, hot summer, and they were small and
hard; and the nuts, though ripe, were not plentiful.
An oasis of mossy grass hidden amongst the thickest
of the hazel, seemed designed for confidences, a mate-
rial seclusion from all that was not nature.

Madeline was stretched carelessly on th^ grass, re-
gardless alike of the negligence of her attitude or of
possible damage to her dress. The attitude was
characteristic, and as to the frock — the grass was
dry and the bits could easily be picked off later.

144 JACOB STAHL

Jacob sat hugging his knees, thoughtful, and he
hardly knew why, a little nervous. He had been re-
garding the unusually quiet Madeline with the eye of
an artist, wishing that he had the genius to perpetu-
ate the picture. Especially his senses were enrap-
tured by the exquisite contrast of that great mane
of rich brown hair, so gloriously alive, against the
texture of the dead brown of parched moss. But he
could not be content to fill his eyes with the picture,
he wanted to touch it and fondle it, and then, he knew,
would come kisses, and after a time even kisses palled.
How could he find satisfaction, he wondered, and
came to an answer in the thought of permanent pos-
session. It was because the time was always so short ;
he had to make the most of it ; if he could look for-
ward to years of uninterrupted intercourse with this
beautiful thing, he could find serene enjoyment in
mere contemplation, was the thought of his innocent
and uninstructed mind and senses.

" Penny," said Madeline casually, without moving
her gaze from its abstracted regardance of the sky.

" I was thinking how beautiful you were," replied
Jacob solemnly.

Madeline lifted her head slightly, and looked at him
for a moment, then sinking back into her former
position, she remarked, " You are a rum pup,
Jimmy ! "

Jacob smiled and moved a little closer to her, near
enough to bury his hand in the rippling masses of
her hair. The bathos of her remark was not con-
ducive to the continuance of detached, artistic
idealization.

" But you are beautiful," he repeated.

Madeline smiled up at him, tolerant of worship.
" I know you think so," she said, " but you 're, oh !
you 're not quite right in your head on that subject."

ELMOVER PRESERVES 146

" I am," protested Jacob. " I was looking at you
from a purely artistic point of view."

" Mother does n't think me beautiful," Madeline
went on, smiling a little grimly, " when she 's not
quite — you know — and gets into one of her tearing
rages ; she always goes for me about being so ugly !
The other night she called me . . ."

" Oh ! Madeline, don't," interrupted Jacob. " I
loathe your mother when she gets like that. She 's,
she 's so . . ."

" Yes ! I know, but you 've got to be awfully nice
to her all the same," replied Madeline, without waiting
for Jacob's discovery of a just description. " If you
are n't, she can make it beastly for us. I should never
be able to see you if she did n't let me."

" She does n't know you 're here with me now, does
she.'' " asked Jacob.

" She knows we went into Pelsworthy to fetch you.
She suggested it; said we might bring you back to
tea. Of course, she just wanted Nina and me out
of the way. . . ."

" You do try to keep her from it, don't you ? "

" Oh ! Yes ! " Madeline sighed hopelessly. " Not
so much as I used to — it 's no good, you know. One
can't do anything."

*' I 'm awfully sorry for you, dear."

" It 's no good worr3ang," said Madeline, sitting
up. " Let 's forget all about it now," and then after
a slight hesitation, she added, " I dare n't stay, very
long."

Jacob was still a tyro in the art of making love.
He always hesitated to take the initiative. But he un-
derstood the purport of Madeline's last remark, and
half shyly drew himself close to her, and then, having
made the plunge, he drowned himself in rapture.

But kisses do not, cannot satisfy, and Jacob re-

146 JACOB STAHL

leased himself, a little ashamed that he had pressed
so far, foolishly anxious lest his innocent caresses
had offended the modesty of his ideal. So unneces-
sarily anxious was he, that he must needs make an
effort to reassure her that his adoration had suffered
no diminishment.

" You know that I love to kiss you," he said ;
" but I could love you just as much if I never kissed
you."

Madeline, propped on one elbow, regarded him
thoughtfully. "Why shouldn't you kiss me.?" she
asked.

" We are going to be married some day, are n't
we ? " agreed Jacob.

The ghost of a frown gathered for a moment on
Madeline's forehead. " Oh ! yes — some day, if you
ever make enough money. . . ."

" Why did you frown.'' " asked the sensitive Jacob.

« Did I? I did n't know I did."

*' Yes you did, a very little frown. Why did
you.'' "

" Oh ! I don't know. It 's rather a long way off,
is n't it.? I say, what 's the time.? "

" Not six — you need n't go yet, need you ? "

" I must n't stay long."

Then followed another interlude out of which was
born a question that Jacob had never before asked,
though it had often trembled in his thoughts.

" Has anyone ever kissed you — before .? " The
tone of the question called for a negative answer.

Instead of replying as he expected, Madeline
laughed gaily.

" But have they? " Jacob persisted, a new note of
anxiety in his voice.

" What do you think ? " Madeline answered.

The vulgarity jarred on Jacob. " Oh! don't play

ELMOVER PRESERVES 147

with me, dear," he urged. " I mean no one has ever
kissed jou as I have, not in the same way — you
know what I mean."

His earnestness and anxiety produced their im-
pression, she took her cue from him, and turned her
head away.

" Tell me," persisted Jacob. " I must know."

" There was someone — he was only a boy. . . ."

The childish admission hurt him. He was fiercely
jealous again, as he had been at the Elmover garden-
party, but he must have more knowledge, and so
continued.

" Oh ! Madeline, you did n't care for him, did
you.'' Who was it.? "

" Nobody you know. It was last June."

" Can't you tell me about it.? "

" N-no. What does it matter.? It 's all over and
done with."

" You did n't care for him ? Madeline ! "

A great fear was springing up in Jacob's mind.
He had not during the past five weeks considered the
possibility that anyone but himself had ever made
love to this girl. In the purity of his own mind he
had conceived her love for him to be of the same
kind as his own.

" Madeline ! You did n't care for him.? "

" Oh ! I don't know. I suppose I thought I did.
I was such a kid."

" But did he kiss you.? Not as I have kissed
you.?"

Perhaps Madeline was in some way enjoying his
suffering. It gave her a sense of power. But she
assumed an attitude of humility, and her confession
was made with her hands clasping her ankles, her
forehead on her knees, her hair all about her face.
She gave a ghost of a nod from this position, a

148 JACOB STAHL

vague affirmative that keened Jacob to a desire for
the truth.

"Not often?" he protested.

" Pretty often," murmured Madeline.

" Then you did — care for him ? "

" I suppose I thought so — then."

" How old was he? "

" Nineteen. It was my cousin, mother's nephew."

A memory awoke in Jacob of the scene on the
cricket field, and of that gauche, common boy with
the red hair who, someone had said, was staying at
Elmover.

"His name wasn't Kingdon, was it.''" he asked,
the name springing to his mind with horrible cer-
tainty. " Not a boy with red hair.'' "

Madeline looked up. " Why ? What do you
know about him.'' "

" Oh! not that boy. Say it was n't ! "

" Why ? What was the matter with him ? "

Poor Jacob, he was badly hurt. His too active
Imagination insisted upon picturing that coarse, hor-
rible boy (Jacob had not forgotten the insult of-
fered him) caressing this delicate, sweet Madeline.
Ugh ! How could she ? For a moment he revolted.
He got to his feet and moved away.

" Good Lord ! " he e j aculated. " How could you ?
That beast ! "

Madeline looked up at him, ruffled by the wound
to her vanity, so new from this source.

" He was n't a beast," she said indignantly.
" I 've always liked Billy. Father was rather rotten
to him, he 's never had a chance."

" You did n't really like him."

" Yes, I did," defiantly. " Why not? "

" It makes me feel sick," returned Jacob. He sat
down, a reasonable distance away, and began to

ELMOVER PRESERVES 149

smoke. To break the tensity of the silence he re-
peated his last remark with a variation, and mur-
mured emphatically, " absolutely sick."

Madeline was resentful. For a moment she in-
tended to go away, and never see Jacob again, but
before she had time to act on the intention, she
changed her mind. It may be that she saw that
Jacob would make no effort to detain her, and that
her pride would not admit what amounted to a de-
feat. Whatever her motives and emotions, she was
conscious still of her power over him, and after a
short interval of gloomy silence she went across to
him and wound her arms round his neck.

" Don't be cross," she said caressingly.

But Jacob sat wounded and unresponsive, trying
to adjust his conception of her to this new knowl-
edge, yet vividly conscious of the joy of her presence,
fearful lest she should withdraw it. It was this fear
which quickened the conciliation, for Madeline, of-
fended by his lack of response, made a movement to
withdraw her arms, and found herself detained.

" I thought I made you sick," she said.

" Not you, not you^"* returned Jacob, holding her,
" only the thought of that — that beast."

Madeline condescended. " I was such a kid," she
said, her face against his. "I — I did n't know
anything, and he was so big and strong. Don't
shudder. There '11 never be anybody but you again
— never ! "

" Never .'' You promise ! "

" Of course."

" Promise ! "

*' I 'promise?^ This with a hug of warm assurance.

" After all," said the converted Jacob after an
interval, giving expression to his new-found point of
view — " after all, kisses don't count for much."

150 JACOB STAHL

They had separated from their near embrace, and
as he spoke Jacob was studying Madeline's face.
At his words, she blushed as he had never seen her
blush before, a great flood of colour crept up her
neck, cheeks, forehead.

" Why did you blush ? " he asked.

" I did n't," said Madeline, and hid her burning
face in her hands.

"Madeline! Why did you blush? " he persisted.

Her only reply was a sob. Jacob, who had never seen
Madeline cry even in anger, thought she was laughing.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked.

" Oh ! I — I 'm not. Oh ! of course you '11 never
understand. It was n't my fault ! It . . ." She
broke off and sobbed unrestrainedly.

Jacob did n't move ; he felt cold and sick. His
suspicion was growing clearer ; innocent as he was
of any experience, he had read much.

" I did n't know — I did n't understand. I did n't
understand," sobbed Madeline.

" But," stammered Jacob, " you don't mean —
you. . . ."

Madeline looked up. " Don't mean what ? " she
asked.

" You don't mean," said Jacob, " that you. . . ."
He broke off and began again. " You don't mean
that he. . . ."

"Of course not! You don't think! . . ." She,
too, found words impossible.

Jacob rose slowly. " We ought to be going," he
said.

Madeline agreed, and very silently they made their
way back to Elmover. They skirted the house and
went on to the ladder stile.

" Don't bother to come any farther," said Jacob.
« Good-bye."

ELMOVER PRESERVES 161

*' Why are you so cross ? '* hesitated Madeline.
" After all, Billy 's my cousin, and kisses don't
matter."

" No, kisses don't matter," replied Jacob.

" You don't think . . ." said Madeline, looking at
him, and then she turned away quickly and left him,
for he knew, and she saw that he knew, and though
she cried again after she had left him, in her heart
of hearts she had wanted him to know.

CHAPTER Xni

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET
1.

" You are late," said Aunt Hester cheerfully.
" Have you been making up for lost time? "

The remark was intended as an encouragement,
there was even a spice of praise in it, but it was
peculiarly unfortunate. Jacob, weary with disaster,
had had some thought of making confidences, but
this greeting jarred him. At that moment he loathed
all memory work, he was in a state of intense emo-
tion that was not all pain. " Making up for lost
time ! " he thought. " Aunt Hester can't understand.
If I told her she 'd be glad — glad ! She 'd think
that now I 'd go on working. Good Lord, work-
ing ! " He shut himself in, resolved that he would
never confide any hint of his tragedy to Aunt
Hester.

" Yes, I am rather late. There was a lot to do,"
he lied.

At supper, Hester watched him uneasily. Jacob
made no effort to be cheerful, ate very little, and
that mechanically. Hester talked on indifferent sub-
jects, she anticipated another revolt against Mr.
Baker's office, and was uncertain how to meet it.
She thought this moody attitude was a preparation,
deliberate ; and she was surprised when, after a silent
evening, he bade her good-night very quietly, and
evinced no sign of opening the topic she dreaded.

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET 163

"You 're tired to-night, dear," she said, and then
added : " I suppose you want to catch the 9.10 in
the morning? "

« The 9.10, yes," repeated Jacob. " Good-night."

Hester was puzzled, but she did not suspect that
Jacob had not spent his whole day at Pelsworthy.

Jacob felt tired and wanted to sleep, but he was
no sooner in bed than his imagination began to tor-
ture him. " I won't think of it," he said with des-
perate resolution. " I will go to sleep and forget —
everything." A minute afterwards he found himself
picturing new and more horrible details. At half-
past eleven he thought it was nearly morning, lighted
the candle and looked at his watch. When he had at
last convinced himself that it was still going, he de-
cided to give up the effort to sleep, and for a time sat
on the edge of his bed smoking cigarettes. The
night was cold, but he took a pleasure in a physical
discomfort that distracted his thoughts from more
painful things. About one o'clock, when he had
smoked all his cigarettes, he got back into bed and
curled himself up to warm his ice-cold feet. By de-
jgrees he began to doze and to wake again without
any consciousness that he had been asleep. He was
startled when his candle began to flicker, and he
found that it had burned itself out. His watch told
him that it was now a quarter past three. Then he
blew the candle out, and forgot everything till he
was surprised by Aunt Hester's knock. Even then
he could hardly realize that he had slept.

As he walked to the station, he knew that the office
was not possible for him that day, but he could not
have faced any disturbances or arguments with Aunt
Hester. He decided to play truant. The weather
still held, though a long wing of fine cirrus, very
remote and high, that was spreading up from the

164. JACOB STAHL

south, gave evidence to the weatherwise that the
period of summer was determined. At the station
Jacob studied the time-table in the poky little book-
ing-office, and found that there was a train out of
Pelsworthy due at 9.18. He remembered that his
train always met another in the morning, but he had
never before concerned himself as to its destination.
He had never been down the line before, and after
one or two stations the names of the stopping-places
were unfamiliar to him ; he decided at last in favour
of Stannisthorpe, because the first three letters were
the same as those of his own name.

" Return ? " asked the station-master, who was also
booking-clerk and porter.

" Oh ! yes, return, please," replied Jacob.

" Been 'aving a 'oliday.'' " remarked the station-
master, by way of making conversation as he stamped
the ticket. " You 're quite a stranger. Five an'
thrippence, please."

" I went in yesterday. . . ."

" Did n't see you come back, though," parried the
station-master.

" No ! I drove," said Jacob, and the memory of
that drive seemed to be of something very distant
and far away. He went out on to the platform and
wandered up and down till the train came in. His
lips were sore and his mouth dry from smoking un-
accustomed cigarettes in the middle of the night,
but he was enjoying a spirit of adventure. Curious
as it may seem, he had never before been so far, alone
in a train.

2.

The spirit of adventure grew as he neared Stannis-
thorpe. The character of the scenery had changed.
He was out of the river valley now, and in a broad

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET 156

undulating country of few woods, that was new to
him. He would have enjoyed this discovery of un-
known country immensely, if he had not been forced
to carry with him that memory of yesterday ; it kept
recurring and damping his pleasure. He wanted to
put oif the thought of it. . . .

" Which way is the village ? " he asked of the man
who collected his ticket, for there was no sign of
human habitation visible from the little wooden
platform.

The man j erked his head vaguely over his shoulder.

" How far is it ? " asked Jacob.

" 'Bout a milenarf," grumbled the man, and moved
away.

" Here, I say," Jacob called after him. " Can you
tell me what trains there are back to Ashby Sutton ? "

" Twelve seven 'n four noine," replied the man,
and made good his escape.

" Four nine," repeated Jacob to himself, to im-
press the time in his memory, as he went down the
steps on to the road. It had taken him rather more
than an hour to come, that meant he would be home
about the usual time, and there would be no need to
tell Aunt Hester anything about his excursion. The
fates were being kind to him. For a few minutes his
spirits went up. Hang Bennetts and Mr. Baker !

He loitered down the road to the village, still in
an exploring mood. It was not so hot as it had
been, a little fitful breeze had come out of the south-
west, and there was a thin haze of cloud which dimmed
the sun.

Stannisthorpe proved to be a village of quite re-
spectable size on a main road, with an Inn which
Jacob marked as a good place for lunch later on.
Meanwhile he had to get through the time somehow,
and he was becoming conscious of a desire to sit

156 JACOB STAHL

down. He walked on through the one straggling
street of Stannisthorpe, and looked about for some
wood or quiet spot where he might sit down and
think. He had decided that he would think out the
whole situation thoroughly before he returned home.
He must make up his mind definitely. He sighed, for
how could there be any alternative to the utter re-
nunciation of Madeline? The environs of Stannis-
thorpe were not inviting, and he loafed through the
morning with constant references to his watch. He
had nothing to smoke, as he had brought neither
pipe nor cigarettes with him, but now his mouth felt
comparatively clean again, and he called himself a
fool for his neglect of so important a matter. He
sat on a gate for some time, but the wind was getting
stronger, and the clouds coming up out of the south-
west were now heavy enough to blot out the sun alto-
gether; he even felt cold, and glad to walk again.

8.

He had fixed half-past one as a reasonable time to
return to the village for lunch, but he found himself
back at the Inn nearly an hour earlier than he had
intended. He was shy and doubtful about going in ;
perhaps they did n't provide food at places of this
sort, he reflected, for he was quite unlearned in such
matters. There were two doors. Under the sign
was a door which opened boldly on to the highroad,
the other was set back behind a strip of garden, and
approached by a wicket-gate in a thick privet hedge.
He decided that this entrance must be private, if it
belonged to the Inn at all, which was not certain, and
after two or three minutes of hesitation, he nervously
opened the door under the sign, and found himself
in a passage from which he could see into a room on

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET 157

his left, the walls set round with forms, drawn up to
long trestle-tables, the floor strewn with sawdust.
Two men were visible sitting at the table, with metal
pots in front of them. Jacob approached nervously,
and discovered a little pewter-covered bar set across
the corner behind the door, and another door be-
hind the counter. Trying to appear unconscious of
the stare of the two men, he moved up to the bar and
waited for someone to appear.

" Hey ! moother ! You 're wanted ! " called out
one of the men, and then, as Jacob turned, he said:
" She 's j oost away. You ring that there li'l bell
there — she '11 coom."

" Oh ! thanks," stammered Jacob, and gently
tinkled the little hand-bell which stood on the counter.
Presently a stout, florid woman of about forty
bustled in through the door behind the bar.

" Well 'n what for you.'* " she demanded, looking
Jacob over with a critical stare.

" Er — can I have anything to eat here.?" he
asked.

" Plenty of bread and cheese, if that '11 suit you,"
returned the landlady.

This was not at all what Jacob wanted; the land-
lady, seeing his hesitation, said:

" Or did you want dinner ? "

" Yes ! I should prefer that, if you can manage
it," answered Jacob. " I was n't sure . . ."

" Oh ! we can manage it," said the landlady, ap-
parently a little huffed. " You came in the wrong
door — the other 's the 'otel entrance " ; and Jacob
found himself ushered across the passage, through
a sitting-room, and then into another little room,
chiefly remarkable for a very large table and an
excess of chairs.

" You 'd better 'ave it 'ere," said the landlady.

158 JACOB STAHL

" The coffee-room 's beyond, but there 's no one in
to-day, and this is 'andier."

4.

By chance Jacob had stumbled on the Wheatsheaf,
an old coaching Inn which still kept up its reputa-
tion, owing to the patronage afforded it as an excel-
lent centre in the hunting season. In the winter the
Wheatsheaf did a very select business, and the land-
lady, when she discovered that her guest wanted de-
cent entertainment and was not unwilling to pay for
it, bestirred herself to provide quite an elaborate meal.

It was all in the spirit of the adventure, and Jacob,
waiting for the first course, decided that something
stronger than water was necessary as an accompani-
ment to the banquet.

" And what will you take to drink, sir.'' " asked the
landlady, when she brought the soup.

" Have you any wine? " Jacob hardly knew sherry
from claret, but he hoped for some intimation, some
guide from the lips of his hostess.

" Why, yes, sir ! " she said. " We 've very old
cellars 'ere. Quite noted we are for our wine, and no
better judge than me 'usband, as many of the gentry
round would tell you themselves. But I suppose
you 're a stranger in these parts ? "

" Yes ! I 've never been here before," said Jacob,
racking his brains for the name of some appropriate
wine. He remembered in London, after his operation,
that he had had dinner at a restaurant with Aunt
Hester, who had ordered something that ended in
" heimer," he thought, but he could not display
his ignorance by ordering " something-that-ends-in-
heimer," and the first syllable evaded him.

" P'raps you 'd like to try some of our special

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET 159

claret," suggested the landlady, at last, as Jacob
seemed to be no nearer an answer to her question.
" It 's four an' six the 'alf bottle, but me 'usband says
it 's worth double."

Jacob thought the price very reasonable.

It was a sound wine, and was brought by the land-
lord in person, nursed in a basket and uncorked with
tender care. " Twenty-seven year in bottle," said the
high-priest of the cellar, concluding his history, and
waited with arms folded for Jacob to perform his part
of the ritual. Jacob never knew how he fell in the
landlord's estimation by his trial of that precious
wine. He never inhaled its fragrance, nor examined
its colour; there was no preliminary savouring of
the bouquet, that last hesitation before the first drops
are allowed to pass the lips ; no rolling of the mellow
fluid on the palate before the supreme act of swallow-
ing; no appreciative smack of the lips, to be followed
by the expected commendation : " A fine wine that,
landlord, a very fine wine." No ! Jacob tasted it as
he might have tasted lemonade, and said it was " very
nice." " It might a' been ginger-beer, and he 'd never
'ave knowed the difference," grunted the landlord on
his return to the kitchen. " I 'ate to sell a good wine
to a customer like that — it 's fair wasted on 'em."

There, however, the landlord was in error, for that
sound claret brought Jacob inspiration. Under its
mellowing influence he began to see wonderful possi-
bilities. He was a boy of a somewhat religious turn
of mind, and his training and education had stiffened
him into a conventional attitude towards what he
labelled collectively as " sin." There can be no doubt,
also, that at this age he was something of a milksop.
His lameness had made him dependent, and it was
only within the last six weeks that he had begun to
develop any originality of thought.

160 JACOB STAHL

Since that parting last night at the Elmover stile,
he had regarded his problem only from one point of
view. He had seen it as a story out of one of those
many delightfully moral novels he obtained from the
Pelsworthy library. He saw it all in black and white,
there were no half-tones, and for his own part it had
appeared to him that there was no option, save re-
nunciation. He had, indeed, not thought out his
problem at all; he had adopted the thoughts of
writers of modem fiction to fit the situation.

It was not only the effects of the Wheatsheaf claret
that brought him clearer sight on that September
afternoon, the claret was merely an instrument which
quickened his imagination and gave life to the
thoughts that had been accumulating subconsciously
during the past six weeks. For nearly twenty-four
hours he had been considering a particular desire of
the flesh; considering it with disgust as something
removed from himself, he had made no personal ap-
plication. Now, as that sound claret warmed and
stimulated him, he began to find a new and strange
courage. He had come out on an adventure, and he
began to consider the possibilities of life under new
and extraordinarily fascinating conditions. That
other boy — Kingdon — was a beast, in that Jacob
maintained his opinion; but he was a man, whereas
he, himself ..." Oh ! he 'd been a molly-coddle.
What did she think of him ? " Jacob hastily finished
his wine and ordered cigarettes.

" Good Lord ! " he reflected, as he smoked in bliss-
ful ease. " Why should n't I taste life? Why . . ."

A spatter of rain against the window .roused him,
he looked at his watch. It was half-past three. He
rang the bell, asked for his bill, and inquired if he
could have a trap to the station.

THE WHEATSHEAF CLARET 161

6.

By the time he reached Ashby Sutton the effects
of the claret were subsiding, and the mile walk home
to the cottage in the pouring rain reduced him to
something more than ordinary flatness again.

" Oh ! my dear boy," said Hester, " you 're wet
through. I sent a trap to meet you, and they said
you had n't come by the 4.50."

" I went in to see about my season ticket," lied
Jacob. " I never thought of looking out for a trap."

The Wheatsheaf claret was not wasted, it had in-
spired Jacob to look over the edge of his world, and
he had seen another world beyond. When he had
once dared, the rest was easy. His adventure had
resulted in a wonderful discovery, he had discovered
that it was possible to hold views of life different from
those of Fearon, Eric and Aunt Hester. This was the
greatest discovery he ever made.

CHAPTER XIV

ERIC IN OPPOSITION
1.

The benefits of a sound training in mathematics are
inestimable. The study of the potentiahties held by
a fundamental and determinable x induces a logical
and analytical habit of mind. The synthetic habit
follows, or should follow ; when it is attained the mind
is equipped for the consequent study of the more
intricate problems of life. This in its application to
training. A profound study of mathematics will not
fit a man for life, nor will any other engrossing spe-
cialism. The ontologist must be many-minded, he
may have fantasy, but not bigotry, and absorption,
whether in the calculus, in a particular school of
painting or letters, or in any specialism that tends
towards a denial of other turns of thought, implies
bigotry; wherefore specialism, though materially
helpful, is bad for the soul. But as training there
is nothing so strengthening as the study of the deter-
minable X. If Jacob had persisted longer in his at-
tentiveness and devotion to that fascinating sign, he
would have floundered less and developed more rap-
idly. After his great discovery — after he had boldly
conceived and grasped the disintegrating truth that
it was possible and even creditable to have an inde-
pendent mind — he should have made resort to the
only study which deals in certainties. Instead he
floundered, at first wildly, believing he was about to
sink, and then, perceiving that if he sank it was no

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 168

deeper than a man may sink into a comfortable heap
of feathers, he floundered with enjoyment, or it might
be said that he wallowed. Indeed, he wallowed until
the feathers were dissipated, and he discovered be-
neath them a stony and uneven hardness that caused
him grave discomfort. Not till then did he set about
the determination of his particular x, which may be
figured with unmathematical vagueness as a stand-
ard, some imitable integer of thought, conduct and
purpose.

During the six months which followed his great
discovery Jacob had some occasional dim perception
of the uncertainties of general standards, even while
there was still an unknown depth of feathers between
him and the stony hardness below. While he was with
Madeline there seemed no doubt or question, so far
had he progressed from the original point of depart-
ure. He did not analyze his conceptions deeply, but
he saw himself following a perfectly natural course.
There was no sin in his relations with Madehne, be-
cause neither of them beheved themselves to be sin-
ning. Sin, so called, was in this instance a code, man-
made, to preserve the moral status quo, a light and
easily broken code that could be set aside without in-
curring any penalty of the law, without incurring
anything more than a certain, more or less negligible,
displeasure of society, easily to be pacified. More-
over, society was in profound ignorance of the doings,
which it might have described — from its own point
of view — as culpable. Let society, therefore, remain
in ignorance and the stigma did not exist. So power-
ful became Jacob's persuasion that at times he
doubted whether society itself would blame him, or
her, — except outwardly — and that merely for the
ostensible purpose of impressing the code, by pre-
cept, on its own sons and daughters. Jacob recklessly

164 JACOB STAHL

preconceived a standard, and bent his mind to its
determination, encouraging every tendency to deny
the truth of the code. But on occasion a dim per-
ception of uncertainty was superimposed. What
would Aunt Hester, or Fearon, or Eric — say?
When he was at Elmover they became in imagination
supple, plastic creatures, to be moulded by argument,
but when he came into their presence, they appeared
suddenly rigid and unyielding, they radiated an at-
mosphere of unconquerable bigotry. Each had his,
or her, own standard, but in this thing they would
be united to disapprove him, and how could he argue
with them and exhibit the fallacy of the code "^ If but
one of the three had been on his side. ... In fancy
he heard Fearon's " But, my dear boy . . ." or Aunt
Hester's " But, dear, you must see . . ." or Eric's
" But, you young fool . . ." They would be so solid,
so united in this. Most of all he feared the informed
contempt of Eric, and after two years the brothers
were to meet again.

Eric was coming to spend Easter at Ashby Sutton.
His letter to Aunt Hester had been short, but Eric
always wrote briefly.

" Coming down here for Easter.? " Jacob had
asked.

" Only from Thursday till Tuesday," Hester had
replied, and had passed Eric's letter across to Jacob.
He had studied the meticulously neat, tiny writing,
each lino spaced with absolute precision, the left mar-
gin wide and parallel; and as he had read, Jacob
had mentally compared his own indeterminate hand
with this scrupulous regularity. Inimitable, he had
decided, — but he would have liked to imitate it.

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 165

** Does n't say why he 's coming," he had com-
mented.

" I suppose he wants to see you."

Jacob had drawn down the corners of his mouth
to indicate at once incredulity and dissatisfaction at
the compliment paid him.

" Not he ! " had been his sole comment.

Easter was late that year, and when Jacob started
to meet the seven o'clock train it was still broad day-
light. In the village he met Madeline unexpectedly,
and was deflected from his original purpose of meet-
ing Eric. Madeline explained that she had come over
on her mother's behalf to fetch the altar vases which
Lady Felmersdale was going to " do for Easter."
Madeline was, indeed, carrying the vases in her hands.
" Are you coming back as far as the stile .'' " she
asked.

" Well, my brother 's coming down for Easter . . ."
began Jacob.

" Oh ! you '11 get enough of him," Madeline said,
and then after a pause she added : " Father 's over at
Pelsworthy, we need n't hurry, unless you want to
get back for dinner. . . ."

3.

*' Where do you suppose James has gone ? " asked
Eric, when he and Aunt Hester had finished supper
alone.

Hester was embarrassed. She guessed where he
was, but Jacob had asked her to say nothing to his
brother of the Elmover intimacy. " I 'd sooner tell
him myself," Jacob had said. So Hester, who was an
inexpert liar, bungled her answer, and Eric frowned.

" Does he often disappear suddenly like this ? " he
asked, and at that moment Jacob came in.

166 JACOB STAHL

" Hullo ! we thought you were lost," was Eric's
greeting.

" Hullo ! " responded Jacob. " Sorry I could n't
meet you."

It was not a cordial meeting after two years' sepa-
ration, but Eric was displeased that his brother
should not have met him, and Jacob had instantly
become aware of some note of the old bullying au-
thority in Eric's tone ; he resented it, he was de-
termined that he would not passively admit his old
inferiority.

Jacob refused all offers of the supper pressed
upon him by Aunt Hester, and presently Eric dis-
played the real object of his visit. He was going to
be married, soon, in a few weeks at most. This was
startling; neither Hester nor Jacob had had any
hint of an engagement.

" Yes, I 've been engaged for over a year," said
Eric, " but there were some difficulties in the way.
Her people are not strictly orthodox, but her father
has some prejudice against her marrying out of their
own persuasion. . . ."

" Do you mean that they 're Jews ? " blundered
Jacob.

" I hope you have no objection," sneered Eric.

" Oh ! Good Lord, no ! " said Jacob eagerly, in-
tending propitiation, and blundering farther. "Why,
we 're quarter Jewish, too."

Eric's expression conveyed a pitying contempt, but
he made no answer, and continued his statement of
intentions. Jacob, paying little attention, wondered
why he had been snubbed. It is true that at Elm-
over he would never have breathed a word of that
Jew strain, but surely if Eric was going to marry a
Jewess, he should be rather proud than otherwise of
that Semitic ancestry. Always this attitude of supe-

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 167

riority, this administering of snubs! Yet Jacob,
struggling to persuade himself of his own equaHty,
was borne down by his brother's personality. Eric
was so certain, so infallible, so undeviatingly clever.

As Jacob watched him and Hstened to his recital,
he became more and more depressed and conscious of
inferiority. The girl whom Eric was going to marry
had been at Girton, and had taken a first in modern
languages ; she had three hundred a year of her own,
she was brilliantly clever, and had social experience
and influence ; she was, of course, just the right and
suitable person for Eric to marry. And Eric, him-
self, was in a good position ; he was earning alto-
gether some four hundred pounds a year, and had
splendid prospects. He had saved enough money to
take and furnish a house in West Hampstead, and
to furnish it, if one could judge from his descriptions,
without any of those petty economies which might
have marred the completeness and uniformity of his
scheme. He mentioned, casually, his books — eigh-
teen hundred books that would line the walls of the
room he had chosen for his library. How complete
he was, this Eric, and it was all the outcome of his
own cleverness. While he, Jacob, was such a miser-
able failure. What hope was there that he would
ever make a decent income out of architecture? He
remembered all his wasted time. During the last six
months he had scamped his work, taking little or no
interest in it, and doing only just so much as was
necessary to avoid open reproof from Mr. Baker.
His three years' indentureship had expired, but he
was staying on as an " improver," without salary.
He was supposed to be devoting special time to study,
for the purpose of passing the second examination
of the three that he must take before he could become
an Associate of the Royal Institute of British Archi-

168 JACOB STAHL

tects. The " preliminary " had been non-technical,
a mere test of general knowledge, but the " interme-
diate " necessitated application and the making of
many large sheets of drawings, which had to be ap-
proved before the candidate could sit for examina-
tion. These drawings were in progress, but two or
three had not turned out satisfactorily, and he had
shirked remaking them. But the worst part of the
affair was the book-knowledge required, the dry de-
tails of building-construction and classic proportions
in which he had never pretended to take the least
interest. When Mr. Baker had made the suggestion
of Jacob's qualifying for his A.R.I.B.A., and had
quoted the historic performance of his late brilliant
pupil, Mr. Bradley, the idea had been taken up with
enthusiasm, but all that was long before the Elmover
days. Looking back, now, Jacob was only conscious
of a dreary record of lost opportunities so far as his
profession was concerned. Somewhere upstairs was
a half-completed drawing, dirty and incorrect, of the
priest's door, which he had begun on his holiday last
year. That, too, had to be finished or begun again,
it was one of the test drawings required for the ex-
amination. . . . What was that Eric was saying.?

" No, the hours are very short ; I 'm free by four
o'clock, but I do a good deal of reviewing, and that
takes up my time. . . ."

" Reviewing.'' " queried Jacob.

" Yes ! " Eric went on, half in answer to his brother's
question. " I had an introduction to Maunders two
years ago, and he gave me a book on Economics to
do. Since then I have been doing two or three books
every month for the Monthly Review, and regular
work of the same sort as well for the Morning Chron-
icle and the Daily Post. The Review pays fairly
well, but the dailies don't, and they always want the

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 169

notices cut down as much as possible; still, one gets
the books."

How hopeless to attempt any claim of equality
with this brilliant creature, so consistent, so hard-
working, so admirably clever! Jacob thought of his
drawing of the priest's door and shivered. What
achievement of any kind had he to show.? His illicit
love-affair began to seem a reproach instead of a
glory, something to be ashamed of and hidden. By
Eric's standard Jacob was a very poor thing, and
it seemed in the light of those records of success such
an admirable, even a magnificent standard. Work
— that was the real thing, the thing that brought
happiness and satisfaction. " Yes, I must work,"
reiterated Jacob to himself. " I must, I tmU work."

When, towards the close of the evening, Eric in-
quired of his brother how he was " getting on," Jacob
had found nothing to say, and it was left for Aunt
Hester to answer the question. She guessed much
of what had been passing in Jacob's mind, and had
encouraged Eric to talk of his own doings, knowing
that the effect produced upon Jacob must be salu-
tary ; but now she took up the cudgels on behalf of
her younger nephew, and made out quite a good case
for him, so good a case that Jacob attempted denial.

" You 're too modest," said Eric. " Look here, I
might get you some books on architecture to review."

" Oh ! I don't know that I could, I don't know
enough. I should n't know what to say," stammered
Jacob, pleased nevertheless.

" Well, have a try," said Eric, encouragingly.
" Send me the article, and I '11 look over it for you,
before it goes in."

As he undressed, Jacob was still inflamed with the
resolution to work, and his depression had lifted.
When he was in bed he gave himself up to dreams

170 JACOB STAHL

of accomplishment, which included Madeline and so-
cial success ; they also included a vision of himself
as the great authority on all written works of archi-
tecture. " One must specialize," Eric had said. That
should be Jacob's speciality.

4.

As an object lesson Eric's visit was all that Aunt
Hester could have desired, for her elder nephew spent
the greater part of his holiday in working. He had
brought three or four very solid-looking books with
him, and was engrossed first in reading them, and
then in writing. He read one of his articles to Jacob,
who succeeded in understanding the gist of the argu-
ment, became quite interested for the moment in the
subject of Economics, and began to read one of his
brother's books. Though handicapped by the com-
plete lack of previous knowledge on the subject, he
apprehended the logical trend of the work, and on
the strength of this reading and his conversations on
the subject with Eric, he became quite an authority
on Economics to Aunt Hester and Bennetts.

He saw no more of Madeline until the afternoon
of Easter Monday, and then he met her, accidentally,
while taking a " constitutional " (as Eric termed it)
in the company of his brother.

He had given Eric no hint of his relations with
Elmover, and when they saw Madeline in the village,
Jacob was at first considerably embarrassed.

" By Jove! " he ejaculated, when he caught sight
of the familiar form in the distance, " there 's . . ."

" There 's what? " asked Eric.

" Miss Felmersdale," said Jacob, blushing violently.

" Sir Anthony Felmersdale's daughter ? " ques-
tioned Eric, and then, " Do you know them? "

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 171

There was that in the tone of Eric's voice which
gave Jacob his first consciousness of achievement
since Eric's arrival. After all, this paragon of a
brother, with his cleverness and success, his Liberal
views in politics, and his assumption of completeness,
was anxious to know the Felmersdales, was even,
perhaps, envious of Jacob, the failure, for this one
little superiority of attainment.

" Oh ! yes — rather ! " replied Jacob. " I '11 in-
troduce you."

He had his triumph, for Madeline, following her
habit of ignoring any man whom she met for the
first time, addressed herself exclusively to Jacob after
the polite ceremony of introduction, asking him what
he had been doing during Easter, and, with an as-
sumption of ordinary relations, when he was coming
up to Elmover.

" Is your brother staying with you long.? " she
concluded, still addressing Jacob.

Eric interposed with, " No ! I 'm going back to
town to-morrow afternoon. I am not taking a holi-
day this Easter. I . . ."

Madeline did not wait to hear Eric's reasons for
not taking a holiday.

" Well, come up to tea on Wednesday," she said
to Jacob. " I can't stop now — good-bye," and with
a nod she moved away.

" Extraordinarily good-looking young woman,"
remarked Eric, as he and Jacob continued their
walk, " but rather lacking in manners."

" I 've never noticed it ! " returned Jacob, leaving
the application of his remark uncertain. He was
elated at his triumph, but puzzled to know whether
the invitation to tea on Wednesday was bona fide.

172 JACOB STAHL

6.

Both Eric's comments were justified. He did not
elaborate either just then, but after tea, when he and
Jacob had the cottage to themselves, he returned to
the subject.

" How did you come to know the Felmersdales ? "
he asked.

Jacob explained, and answered, to the best of his
ability, various other questions about the family.
Then, following a pause, Eric said,

" Don't fall in love with that handsome young
woman, James."

" Not likely to do that," mumbled Jacob, feeling
a strong desire to confess ; " but, anyway, why
not?"

" For one thing, because Sir Anthony would prob-
ably kick you out of the house," Eric replied ; " and
for another, because I should n't advise you to trust
the constancy of the young woman."

" How can you possibly judge.'' You 've only seen
her for two minutes." Jacob resented the last ex-
pression bitterly ; with regard to Sir Anthony's prob-
able attitude, his own opinion coincided very closely
with that of his brother.

" She 's much too pretty to be faithful to anyone
who was n't in her own set. She might amiise herself
— but she '11 probably marry money or a title."

" Oh ! that 's rot," protested Jacob, with heat.
*' Do you mean to say that every girl who 's good-
looking . . . ? " He stopped, fumbling over the
construction of his sentence.

" You might discriminate," said Eric coolly. " It
is not a question of * every girl,' but of the particular
girl under discussion."

" Oh ! well, I don't see why you should say Miss

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 173

Felmersdale 's like that," said Jacob. " I 've known
her nearly a year. . . ."

" Intimately? " Eric interpolated.

" What do you mean by ' intimately ' ? "

Eric shrugged his shoulders. " I should really ad-
vise you not to make an ass of yourself by asking her
to marry you," was his answer.

Jacob lost his temper. " Oh ! of course, you 'c?
sooner I did n't," he retorted.

" Why ? " asked Eric, with composure.

" You think I can never do anything."

" I think it 's about time you began to grow up and
use your common sense a little — if you have any,"
returned Eric, still speaking in a calm, judicial voice,
which Jacob found intensely irritating.

" Oh ! damn your advice ! " he said, choking with
anger.

" It 's quite unnecessary to swear," was Eric's quiet
reply, and Jacob, feeling utterly impotent, got up and
went out of the cottage, slamming the door behind
him.

6.

At supper Eric was apparently quite undisturbed,
and oblivious of any recent show of temper on the
part of his younger brother, but Jacob, conscious
that, as ever, he had been worsted and scored off, was
gloomy and silent, and made an excuse to go early to
bed.

When he had gone, Eric took the opportunity to
talk about him to Aunt Hester. He was still the same
Eric Stahl in all essentials that Morpeth had ana-
lyzed. His present attitude with regard to his brother
was exactly the same as that which he had exhibited
towards young Anderson's peculations. He did the
right thing, not because he had any particular love

174 JACOB STAHL

of rectitude for its own sake, but because he under-
stood, intellectually, that the right thing was the most
profitable. In all things he respected the code, be-
cause he knew that to oppose the code entailed an ex-
penditure of energy which he counted as profitless.
He was singularly free from emotion and devoid of
any true ambition. He had hitched his waggon to
the sturdiest horse he could lay hold of, and he kept
his eyes on the road. He had never seen the stars.

" About James," he began. " I think you ought
to put a stop to his seeing Miss Felmersdale."

" Oh ! Has he told you ? " exclaimed Hester.

" In effect, yes ! We met Miss Felmersdale this
afternoon in the village, and I guessed that he was in
love with her then. Afterwards, when I spoke to him
about it, he lost his temper."

" Yes, of course ; he would," murmured Hester.

" It is an absurd infatuation," Eric continued.
" Miss Felmersdale, naturally, would never fall in love
with him, and even if she did . . ."

" But you don't understand," interrupted Hester.
" She has fallen in love with him, or, at least, I am
bound to suppose so. Jacob is always seeing her, and
people in the village talk about them. They say
dreadful things, not to me, of course, but it gets
round in all sorts of ways." Hester sighed.

" Then he is compromising Miss Felmersdale's
reputation," said Eric, " which is selfish and dis-
honourable."

Hester regarded Eric thoughtfully. She had no
particular affection for him, but she knew he was to
be trusted, and she wanted his help because she felt
that he was entirely reliable.

" Do you know, Eric," she began, hesitating, " I
have been very, very much troubled over all
this. ..."

ERIC IN OPPOSITION 176

** James is utterly thoughtless," interpolated Eric.

" No ! that is not true," said Hester. " He is head-
strong and emotional, and he is, or has been, madly in
love with this girl. But that is not what I want to
say. I am afraid, I am almost sure or I would n't say
this to you, that . . . that this Madeline Felmersdale
is not a — nice girl. Do you understand.'' "

" A coquette? " suggested Eric, who wished for a
plainer statement.

" Yes, and more than that, I am afraid. Young
as she is — she won't be eighteen till next July — I
have heard that Jacob is not her first lover. There
was a cousin, a boy named Kingdon. They were seen
— in the woods together. ..."

Eric whistled. "I suppose James knows. . . ."

" Oh ! no ! He thinks she 's perfection — though
I have noticed some difference in his treatment of her
lately. Still, he 's absolutely at her beck and call.
She can whistle him up whenever she likes, and I have
no control over him — none."

Eric had formed a new picture of Madeline. An
untrue picture, because he could not make allowance
for temperament, for lack of training, for the circum-
stance of Elmover, and for a dozen other contributory
causes. He did not know that her eager mind and
her passionate body had been allowed to develop
uncontrolled, he merely condemned, unhesitatingly,
without any palliation. He thought of the beautiful
face, the burning hair ( not yet " put up," but con-
fined in a long thick plait) , the hot eyes that were too
bold for a girl of seventeen, and he accepted Aunt
Hester's statement without a shadow of doubt; and
condemned. The picture he formed of Madeline at
that moment was never to be altered, it remained with
him always. For him she became a thing to be de-
spised, to be treated with contempt.

176 JACOB STAHL

** That alters the case," he remarked after a pause.
** I should say the best thing you can do is to get him
away from her, if possible. He 's out of his articles,
now ; why not try to get him into a London office ? "

Again Hester sighed, this time more heavily.
*' Yes ! I have thought of it," she said, wearily. " I
suppose it must come to that, if I can persuade him
to go. In any case she 's sure to give him up sooner
or later, and then he won't stop here. Oh ! I hope, I
hope he won't break his heart over it."

" Young fool ! " thought Eric.

7.

Jacob went to the office next morning; he had ex-
cuse for taking an extra day's holiday, but he wished
to avoid any further discussions with his brother.

Eric made no further allusion to the Felmersdales,
though he went to the station with Jacob. As they
were saying good-bye, Eric said, " I '11 try to get you
some architectural books for review."

"Oh! will you.'* Thanks very much," replied
Jacob. " Though I really don't know if I shall be
able to do them."

" Oh ! that '11 be all right," said Eric. " Send your
article to me, and I '11 look over it before it goes in."

" It 's awfully good of you," said Jacob. " Well,
good-bye."

" Good-bye," returned Eric, and then just as the
train was going out he said, " You 're coming up for
the wedding.? "

" Oh ! yes, thanks, I should like to," called back
Jacob. " He might have asked me to be his best
man," he reflected.

CHAPTER XV

A DETERMINATION
1.

Eaic did not forget his promise. A fortnight later
Jacob received an interesting-looking parcel from his
brother, and, by the same post, a letter the substance
of which was, " Stubbs of the D.P. sent me these.
Take your time over them, and let me have the notice
when it is written." There were two books in the
parcel. Jacob eagerly opened the larger and more
important looking volume. The title was " Sixteenth-
Century Art in Spain." " I suppose that includes
architecture," reflected Jacob. The other volume he
found to be on the " Architecture of Christian Rome."

" I say,*' he said to Aunt Hester, " I simply know
nothing whatever about these. If they had been on
Gothic or even ordinary Classic Architecture, I
might have made something of them."

" But when you Ve read them, dear, you '11 be able
to write something about them, won't you.** " replied
Hester, comfortingly.

" That 's all very well," expostulated Jacob, " but
suppose either of these people have made a mistake, I
could n't possibly spot it. I should n't know, if they
were chock-full of mistakes."

" Will that matter.? " asked Hester.

" I should hardly think it 's likely they have made
any bad mistakes, would you.'* " said Jacob. "I
should think a man would be pretty careful before he
published a book like that."

178 JACOB STAHL

" Sure to be," said Hester.

There were some loose papers inside the volumes.
Two of them were printed notices from the respective
publishers, giving the name and price of each book,
and requesting that no notice might appear before
the date of publication, which was added in writing.

" This one has n't been published yet ! " exclaimed
Jacob gleefully, after examining these notices. " It
won't be published till the day after to-morrow."

Hester did not seem to realize the glory of this
fact; she was wishing that Jacob would go on with
his breakfast, but she did not care to spoil his evident
enjoyment of the new excitement. " Does that
matter.? " she asked, tepidly.

Jacob frowned. " Oh ! of course, it does n't mat-
ter," he said ; " only, well, it 's rather professional,
is n't it, getting these books, at least this one, before
it 's published.'' "

" You '11 soon be quite a critic," agreed Aunt Hes-
ter, with the best intentions. But she was not happy
in striking the right note that morning, for Jacob
frowned again.

" I have n't the least idea what I shall say," he said.

" Had n't you better get on with your breakfast,
dear.f^ " Hester, at last, suggested mildly, seeing that
Jacob was about to begin a study of his new toys by
looking through the illustrations. " You '11 miss
your train."

" All right, all right, in half a minute," responded
Jacob crossly. " Hullo, what 's this .'' " He had come
upon another loose slip of paper, on which was writ-
ten in pencil : " Stahl. Not more than 3^ col. the
two.*' He pondered this for a moment, and then, hav-
ing deciphered the riddle, he announced, " I 've got
half a column to do 'em in. I wonder how much that
would be of my writing. I shall have to get a Daily

A DETERMINATION 179

Post, and count the words." Then, seeing that Hes-
ter was not paying proper attention to the impor-
tance of this announcement, he continued, " I do think
jou might be a httle more interested. It 's jolly im-
portant, you know, that I should do these books
decently. I might make a lot by this sort of thing."

" I am interested, dear," protested Hester, and
striving to make amends, she added, " Perhaps you 'd
better not go to the office to-day. Stop and work at
these at home."

" No ! I must go to the office," said Jacob.
" There 's a lot to do." The real cause of his right-
eous determination was the desire of exhibiting his
glory to Bennetts.

2.

His manner of achieving this was characteristic.
Arrived at the office, he deposited the two precious
volumes by the side of his board, and when he had
changed his coat, he proceeded unostentatiously to
look through them.

Bennetts took no notice. Jacob was not engaged
on office work just then, as he was supposed to be
working for his examination; consequently Stahl's
work was no affair of Bennetts'.

Presently Jacob asked whether Bennetts knew any-
thing of that obscure period of building which fol-
lowed the fall of Rome and preceded the birth of
Gothic architecture. He phrased the question some-
what loosely.

Bennetts hesitated to plead entire ignorance, and
parried the interrogation by pretending to misunder-
stand its purport. Jacob attempted greater pre-
cision of enunciation, which had the desired effect of
making Bennetts get off his stool and come over to
Jacob's board.

180 JACOB STAHL

" Where did you get this ? " asked Bennetts, look-
ing over Jacob's shoulder.

" Came by post," replied Jacob, and then, " it is n't
published yet " ; and he gave Bennetts the printed
notice from the publisher to prove the truth of his
statement.

" What 's the idea? " asked Bennetts, puzzled.

Jacob showed him the fly-leaf of one of the volumes,
which had " Presentation Copy " punched upon it in
raised letters.

" Someone you know, written it? " asked Bennetts.

" No ! I 've got to review the beastly thing," said
Jacob, with an air of being rather perplexed as to
how he was to accomplish the task.

Bennetts grinned. " Did n't know you were an
authority on that period," he said, with his usual
sarcasm.

" Oh ! don't be an ass, I 'm not," replied Jacob,
and with a burst of confidence he added, " Nor on
this," and displayed the work on " Spanish Art in
the Sixteenth Century."

" Is it some sort of a joke? " asked Bennetts.

Jacob explained the manner of obtaining the books.

" Rather rough on the men who wrote them, is n't
it? " said Bennetts caustically.

" I shall give them a good notice."

" How do you know before you 've read them ? "

" As a matter of fact," said Jacob, " half the books
that are reviewed never get read at all. My brother
does a lot of work of this sort, and he knows all about
the way things are done." This remark was unjusti-
fiable, for Eric, who was, himself, thoroughly con-
scientious, had never made any such charge against
his fellow reviewers. However, it passed with Ben-
netts, who merely said,

" Well, I suppose you '11 read them."

A DETERMINATION 181

" Of course."

" Don't pick too many holes in them," remarked
Bennetts as he returned to his seat.

3.

It is probable that few reviews receive as much at-
tention, thought, and care as those which Jacob wrote
for the Daily Post. He read both books from cover
to cover, he found in the publisher's advertisement at
the end of one of the volumes, a list of works on Ar-
chitecture, and he bought two which touched on the
dark ages of development covered by the work on
Christian Rome. It was to this volume that he de-
voted most attention, inasmuch as the published price
was fifteen shillings net, whereas the other was one of
a series, and only cost six shillings. He had thought
of buying the earlier issues of the series, in order that
he might compare them with the work he was engaged
upon, but decided that he must occupy the greater
part of his space with the more important work. He
also searched the Architectural and Building papers
for notices, but he was too early. Finally, in three
weeks, he achieved his review. It was by no means to
be despised. He had approached his work without
prejudice, he had thoroughly grasped the writer's
descriptions, and by the aid of the two books he had
bought he was enabled to counter in some respects
the point of view of the writer on Christian Rome.
When his notice was finished he was very proud of it,
and read it aloud three separate times to Aunt Hester.
Madeline was not interested, which damped his ar-
dour a little, but he reflected that she could not be
expected to understand so highly technical a perform-
ance and wisely refrained from dwelling too much on
the subject in her presence; occasional references

182 JACOB STAHL

could not be avoided. After four days had elapsed
without his receiving any answer from Eric, he wrote
to ask whether " his stuff would do," to which Eric
replied that it was " all right," and that he had sent
the notices in with some of his own, and added, " I
found three split infinitives, and may I advise you
that ' render ' should only be used in the sense of ' to
give hack* not of ' to offer.' " Jacob satisfied himself
of the accuracy of the second criticism by means of
a dictionary, but he had not the least idea what a
split infinitive might be, nor could Bennetts, Aunt
Hester, or Mr. Baker enlighten him. He bought a
copy of the Daily Post every day, and read the book
reviews with diligence, but many weeks went by before
his own long-expected effort was printed, and among
the events of those weeks was Eric's wedding.

As an event it would not be worth alluding to, were
it not for certain effects which it produced upon
Jacob. These effects were the result of the journey
to London, wearing the appropriate frock-coat and
tall hat that could no longer be avoided, of the ex-
citements of the reception at the house of Mr. and
Mrs. Myers, and of the picture of Miss Doris Myers
in process of transformation into Mrs. Eric Stahl.

The ceremony was a civil one ; the registry-ofBce
represented a compromise between a tradition of
Judaism and a tradition of the Established Church
of England. With Mr. Myers the tradition was
feeble, representing certain habits of thought which
interfered in no way with the arrangement of his
working hours, or of his cuisine. With Eric and
Miss Myers the tradition was feebler still, for they
were agreed in philosophic doubt, content that no

A DETERMINATION 183

revelation had ever been vouchsafed to human minds
by any supernal agency. Nevertheless the registry-
office was, in effect, a compromise between church and
synagogue. To Jacob and Aunt Hester it came as
a surprise, but the explanation seemed sufficient.
Neither of them had any suspicion that Eric or his
bride was not strictly orthodox. This was one of
those things that Eric never spoke about; he con-
sidered all religious beliefs as negligible, and religious
discussions as a waste of time.

Miss Dorris Myers was not pretty. Her features
were heavy, she wore a pince-nez with glasses of con-
siderable magnifying power, her forehead was intel-
lectual but lumpy, and her figure evidenced a greater
regard for health and comfort than for the prevailing
fashion in waists. She suffered, too, on this occasion
from her efforts to adapt herself to the expected atti-
tude. Among professors she would have been at
home, modestly competent, but the large circle of
acquaintances that revolved round the Myers centre,
represented much wealth, but little academic knowl-
edge, and Doris, who knew comparatively little of her
parents' friends, was clumsily cheerful, persevering in
an assumption of pleased sociability that was obvi-
ously unnatural. She treated Jacob and Aunt Hester
precisely as she treated all the other guests ; indeed, for
that day she had but one manner, and the impression
left upon Jacob was unfortunate so far as his sister-
in-law was concerned, but the effect was far-reaching.

He felt hopelessly out of place, yet envious of the
prosperity of Eric. His brother was making his
already assured position still more secure, fortifying
his financial and social edifices with strong, reliable
walls. Then Jacob pictured Madeline as the centre
of another crowd, of less corpulent average, possibly
less wealthy, but representative of something that

184 JACOB STAHL

even the brilliant Eric might hopelessly aspire to
reach. It was something that stood in Jacob's mind,
at that time, for all that was best in England, for
aristocracy, for power, for the born and natural
rulers of the universe. When he thought of the
green slopes of Elmover, they appeared to him as rep-
resentative of that something infinitely far removed
from, and above, this heated, chattering crowd of
suburban magnates. With the influence of Elmover
behind him, he could afford to despise this worthless
triumph of Eric's; to look down upon him and his
wife from heights, not intellectual, but of dizzy social
altitude. There came to him in the contemplation of
the contrast, a determination to grasp these wonder-
ful potentialities. He registered a vow that he would
no longer be regarded as a negligible cipher; that
he would dally no more, but resolutely face the ter-
rible ordeal of asking Sir Anthony's permission to
an engagement to Madeline. And if Sir Anthony
refused.'* Then, it might be that at the last resort
Jacob would insist, would claim a right. Could Sir
Anthony refuse then.''

CHAPTER XVI

THE HEART OF ELMOVEB
1.

Befoke the great determination could be resolved
into action, Madeline had to be consulted. The sub-
ject had already been discussed, in vague generaliza-
tions that had always ended in the pronouncement,
" He never will, never.'''* When pressed for reasons
Madeline had fallen back on " You don't know what
father 's like," and a return to the definite " He '11
never let me marry you, never. ''^ To Jacob, keenly
conscious of the horrors involved in the projected
interview with Sir Anthony, these checks to active
development had afforded more relief than dis-
appointment. He had the present, he felt sure of
Madeline, and was fain to believe that some miracle
would provide for the future. But now he had been
stirred to action, he was warm with his resolution to
work and, before all else, to conquer the world of
Elmover, to become established as the accepted suitor
of Miss Felmersdale. When that was accomplished
he could work better, he would have an object that
would lead him on, a perpetual stimulus; or so he
thought.

Fate gave him opportunity to broach the subject
to Madeline while he was still glowing with purpose,
caught him hot-foot even before he reached home. He
and Hester stayed in London for one night after the
wedding, and came down by the midday train to
Pelsworthy. There they had to change and cross

186 JACOB STAHL

over for the little loop line that serves Ashby Sutton,
and on the up-platform they met Sir Anthony and
Madeline. Sir Anthony was unusually surly. He
saluted them with a frown, raised his hat the bare
limit permitted by courtesy, grumbled " How d' ye
do? " and then, showing signs of a desire to get
away at once, added, addressing Hester, " Going up
to town? "

" No ! we 've just come back," said Hester.

"Oh! I'm going up by the 2.15," replied Sir
Anthony, and turned away, again with the least pos-
sible acknowledgment of politeness in the way of
hat-raising.

Jacob, nervous but still determined, was speaking
to Madeline, but her father called to her imperatively
to follow him, and she acceded with a somewhat un-
accustomed meekness.

As Jacob, thus summarily snubbed and dismissed,
followed his aunt up the length of the long platform,
he realized with horrible clearness the kind of inter-
view that was in store for him.

" I suppose they 've come in to do some shopping,"
he said to Hester.

" No, dear. Sir Anthony is going up to town by
the 2.15, he told me," replied Hester.

" Oh! is he? " said Jacob, and began to formulate
a plan in his mind. " I say, dear," he went on, as the
plan grew plainer, " would you mind going on by
yourself? "

" I should n't mmd,^^ wavered Hester, " but why?
What are you going to do? "

For a moment he thought of prevaricating, but the
urgent mood that still held him, gave him the courage
of candour. " I want to drive back with — with Miss
Felmersdale. I want to talk to her about something.
It 's no use going on as we have been, I 'm going

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 187

to do something definite. I mean to speak to Sir
Anthony."

Hester set her lips together. " I 'm afraid . . ."
she began.

" Yes, so am I ! " broke in Jacob. " But it 's got
to be done, and I want to talk it over."

" I think you 're quite right, dear," said Hester,
when she had taken her seat in the train.

" Yes. I ought to have done it before," returned
Jacob, and then they were silent, watching the dis-
tant bustle which marked the arrival of the London
Express. As it passed them a few minutes later with
impressive, arrogant pantings, it seemed a type of
Elmover, an overwhelming, first-class train, despising
the httle group of still engineless carriages huddled
together on the side line.

Jacob turned and walked back along the platform.
He found Madeline in conversation with a smartly
dressed young man whom he recognized as " young
Bassett," so designated to distinguish him from " old
Bassett " his father, the Vicar of Pelsworthy.

" Hallo ! " said Madeline, as Jacob approached.
" I thought you 'd gone."

" No, I 'm not going by this train," replied Jacob,
staring at young Bassett, and then to display his
intimacy he added, " I say, are you driving.'' "

" Yes ! Why .'' " asked Madeline carelessly.

*' I thought you might give me a lift."

" I 've got some shopping to do first."

" Well, I can hold the pony for you," said Jacob
with an assumption of levity, wondering why Madeline
was so cool.

" Oh ! look here ! " broke in young Bassett eagerly,

188 JACOB STAHL

" I '11 trot the pony round for you, Miss Felmersdale.
I *ve got jolly well nothing to do."

" Please don't trouble," interrupted Jacob, and then
to clinch the matter he turned to Madeline and said
with a suggestion of authority : " I want to talk to
you about something. Do you mind? "

" Oh ! of course not," returned Madeline, though
she gave no sign of being pleased. " I thought you
were going back with your aunt."

She said good-bye to young Bassett with unneces-
sary effusiveness, Jacob thought, and why should she
press him to come over to Elmover for tennis?
Young Bassett's " Thanks awfully, I should love to,"
sounded in his ears as he walked with Madeline out
of the station. But Madeline gave him no oppor-
tunity to scold, for she took the offensive at once,
even as they trotted briskly down the long station
approach.

" You do give it away, Jimmy," she said. " I
suppose you don't want everybody to know."

" Young Bassett is n't everybody," grumbled
Jacob.

** Don't be silly. I do think you might behave de-
cently when we are in public."

" Good Lord! " ejaculated Jacob. " What did I
do?"

" You looked as glum as anything just because
I asked Mr. Bassett to come over and play tennis,
and lugged me off just as if I belonged to you."

"Well, you do, don't you? "

" I suppose you don't want other people to think
so, though? "

** Yes ! I do," replied Jacob. " I should like every-
one to know that you belong to me."

" Well, I shouldn't, anyway," rejoined Madeline.

" Why not? »

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 189

" Oh ! don't be so absolutely idiotic. It 's pretty
obvious, is n't it? "

" Look here, Maidie," began Jacob earnestly,
" I 've made up my mind that we can't go on as we
are going."

Madeline looked at him curiously, a look which
Jacob couldn't interpret. "Well.? What then.?"
she asked.

" I 'm going to speak to your father."

Madeline laughed scornfully. " / know," she said ;
" I 've heard that before."

" I am," asseverated Jacob.

" That '11 jolly well be the end of everything," said
Madeline.

8.

Jacob had no opportunity to reply until the shop-
ping was done, but as soon as they were out of the
town he began again.

" I must speak to Sir Anthony, Maidie, and ask
him to let us be engaged."

" Of course you can if you like," said Madeline.
" Only I tell you there 's simply no earthly chance of
his saying ' Yes.' "

" Well, do you mind my asking him? " Jacob
persisted.

Again Madeline looked at him with that enigmatical
expression which Jacob could not interpret, a look
as of one who passes judgment.

" I don't mind," she said ; " only, as I tell you, it '11
be the end of everything."

"Why?"

Madeline shrugged her shoulders and whipped the
pony with precision, flicking him carefully in exposed
places.

190 JACOB STAHL

" Why ? " repeated Jacob.

" Oh ! it 's obvious," returned Madeline, her atten-
tion still concentrated on the galloping pony.

" You mean I 'm not good enough."

" I mean father thinks so."

" Well, he 's got to consent," said Jacob solemnly ;
" he had better make up his mind to it."

Madeline's attention was instantly diverted from
the pony.

" What do you mean by that? " she asked sharply,
looking at Jacob, startled, a little frightened.

" I mean he 's got to."

" Do you mean to say you 'd tell him? Every-
thing? "

Jacob nodded.

" Oh ! Jimmy, you would n't, you could n't be so
wicked as that." Madeline's face was flaming.

"Why not? " asked Jacob. "Why shouldn't I?
It 's the only way to make him do what we want."

" If you do, I '11 never speak to you again. Never !
I mean it," broke out Madeline vehemently.

"But . . ."

" I swear I won't. Never. If you do go and ask
him, you must promise faithfully not to give me
away."

" I shan't have the least chance. . . ."

" Look here, Jimmy. I won't let you see father,
unless you swear you won't say a word about that.^^

Jacob was disturbed. He did not understand her
vehemence. It seemed to him that if she cared enough
for him, she would brave anything for his sake, even
her father's anger, so he replied sulkily:

" You can't prevent my seeing him."

" I can," said Madeline passionately ; " or at least
I can deny everything. And I would, too, and I 'd
never look at you again. I 'd hate you."

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 191

" Oh ! all right," said Jacob weakly. " Only don't
you see it's the only way I can possibly make him
consent. Don't you want him to, Maidie? You
have n't got tired of me, have you? You don't want
to give me up ?"

" Of course not ; don't be silly ! " Madeline an-
swered ; a terribly unconvincing denial.

" Well, we can't go on like this," said Jacob, re-
turning to his original standpoint.

" I don't see why not ! "

The flush of resolution was beginning to fade, but
he steeled himself into determination, thinking of Eric
and the wedding and all that it connoted. " No, we
can't," he said. " If you say I 'm not to say anything
about that, I won't, of course, but I must ask him."

" Well, I think it's simply silly," replied Madeline,
returning to a study of the pony's harness ; " but if
you want to break up everything, I suppose I can't
stop you."

By the end of the drive a decision had been ar-
rived at. Jacob was to see Sir Anthony when he came
back from town. If Madeline had really been anxious
that the momentous interview should not take place,
she could, undoubtedly, have prevented it. Jacob
sensed something of this, yet did not put a right
construction on her consent, however, apparently,
unwilling. He thought, despite all the auguries, that
he had a chance, and he believed that she thought so,
too. In his innocence he was blind. He assumed that
Madeline belonged to him, that she could never break
with him. If he ever thought of the red-haired King-
don, he put the thought away from him. " That was
different" was the phrase which relegated such unwel-
come remembrance to obscurity.

" You swear you won't say a word to him about
— that? " were Madeline's last words. And Jacob

19« JACOB STAHL

pledged himself to silence. " But it will come to that
in the end," he thought.

4.

The decision had been made on a Friday. Saturday
passed uneventfully. Jacob caught no glimpse of
Madeline. In the afternoon he walked over to the
ladder stile, which had become an acknowledged
trysting-place, but he dared go no farther, lest Sir
Anthony should have returned. There was nothing to
be gained by obtruding oneself until the actual time
for the interview arrived. He stayed by the stile for
an hour or more, and walked home slowly, inventing
excuses for Madeline. He discovered several excellent
reasons why she should not have been able to meet him,
but he believed none of them.

At twenty minutes to eleven on Sunday morning,
one of the Elmover under-gardeners who lived in
Ashby Sutton, brought a note that, according to
instructions, did not require an answer. It only con-
tained a few words. " Come up this afternoon
about four. I'll try and keep him in a good temper.
Mother knows."

At midday dinner, Hester, who was not aware of
the contents or the significance of the note received,
found occasion to ask her nephew if he was ill.

" 111? No! Why? " demanded Jacob crossly.

" I noticed you were looking very white in church,
this morning. And, dear, you are shivering now, and
eating nothing. Have you got a chill, do you think? "

Jacob rose hastily from his chair. His feelings
demanded action. In church he had suffered from
a veritable ague, and had had to cross his arms and
press them with all his force against his chest to
subdue the trembling that shook him. He felt sick,

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 193

too, actually, physically sick, and clammy cold. But
he was not going to admit his cowardice to Hester.

" I don't know. Perhaps I have," he said. " I feel
cold. It 's nothing ; " and he stretched his arms and
gaped a nervous yawn.

Hester came over to him. " Let me look at your
tongue ! " she said, after the manner of old wives'
diagnoses. Jacob submitted, and was given a clean
bill of health on that score. " But, my dear boy, you
are as cold as ice, and shivering. You must go up to
bed at once, and I '11 get some hot bottles and bring
them to you." Hester's prescription seemed justi-
fied by the symptoms.

A ray of beautiful hope fell across Jacob's mind.
" Perhaps," he thought, " I am really ill. It would
be silly for me to go and see Sir Anthony when I 'm
not fit. Why not put it off?" Oh! blessed relief;
even as he contemplated the thought of a serene after-
noon in bed, his shivering ceased and a pulse of colour
came back to his cheeks.

" Well, perhaps I will go to bed after dinner," he
said to Hester. " Let 's go on now. I feel better."
After a short argument they returned to the inter-
rupted meal. Jacob's appetite seemed to have
returned.

" You look much better again, now," said Hester,
when they had finished, " but I think you ought to
go to bed, all the same. You were as white as a
sheet in church."

No, he was not ill. That reasonable and just ex-
cuse for shirking was denied him. The thing had to
be done, if not now, at some other time. So Jacob
argued, and to Aunt Hester he replied that he would
not go to bed, that he was going to Elmover — about
four.

Hester was not surprised. Jacob often went over

194. JACOB STAHL

to Elmover for an hour or two on Sunday after-
noons. Not up to the house; he and Madeline met
in the spinny ; Sir Anthony was reckoned " safe "
on Sunday afternoons, indoors, somnolent. So Hes-
ter's only comment on the visit was, " So late? You
generally go about half-past two."

" Yes, I know. I — I 'm going later to-day. I
may stay to tea," said Jacob, and involuntarily shiv-
ered and yawned again.

" I 'm sure you 've got a chill," remonstrated
Hester. " You really ought not to go out. Don't
you think . . . ? Just this one afternoon ? "

" Oh ! no. I 'm all right," returned Jacob petu-
lantly. " Besides, it 's a lovely day. The first day
of summer."

But there were two mortal, miserable hours to be
passed before he need start for Elmover; two awful
hours of anticipation to be spent in repeating over
and over again, " Well, he can only say ' No.*
There 's nothing to be afraid of. He is n't likely to
kick me out, and even if he did . . . ? There 's simply
nothing in the world one need be afraid of but phys-
ical torture, and even that 's worse when you think
about it than when you actually have to go through
it. I am a fool. There 's nothing on earth to be
nervous about. I won't be nervous. I simply will
not be nervous ! "

Part of the time he spent lying down on his bed;
he had had an absurd idea that he might go to sleep,
but most of the time was occupied in pacing up and
down his little room. Also, he smoked until another
qualm was added to the purely nervous indisposition,
and he was compelled to forego that solace to
agitation.

At a quarter past three he began to " get ready,"
to brush his hair, wash his hands, fidget with his tie,

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 195

and generally to attempt small improvements in his
appearance. At half-past three he set out resolutely
for Elmover, repeating the formula that there was
" absolutely nothing to be afraid of," and feeling very
cold, very sick, and a little light-headed — in much
the same condition, in fact, as a person who is suffer-
ing from a high temperature, as, very possibly, he
was.

Hester watched his departure, and looking after
him thought, " I suppose he 's going to speak to Sir
Anthony. Well, I don't know what 's going to be
the end of it. I wish he had confided in me ; though
I don't know that I could have helped." She re-
mained at the window long after he was out of sight,
speculating, trying to plan some possible future.

6.

Jacob thought the spinny seemed very deserted.
He had hoped that Madeline would meet him, and
lingered a few minutes by the stile, looking for her
eagerly. He was buoying up his courage with the
thought that all feminine Elmover was on his side.
" Mother knows," Madeline had written, and Lady
Felmersdale had always liked him and had never ap-
peared to frown disapproval on his aspirations. She
must have known it would come to this, and surely,
now, she would help him. She might have prepared
Sir Anthony already, and if she had, Jacob's task
would be an easy one. He had a high opinion of the
power of petticoat rule at Elmover. So far as he had
been able to understand, the seat of authority re-
mained with Lady Felmersdale; Sir Anthony might
disapprove of many things that were done in the
house, he might grunt and sulk, but he submitted. Sir
Anthony would have been a poor creature in Jacob's

196 JACOB STAHL

eyes, If he had not been a baronet and lord of Elm-
over, but the dignity of the throne surrounded him.
To the son of Hermann Stahl, Sir Anthony was, as
yet, above criticism. Jacob's immature mind had
been impressed with an image of respect £ind rever-
ence; he could not free himself to judge. In his
dependence on preconceptions he stands as a type of
our immature society. . . .

This was only the second time that Jacob had rung
at the front-door at Elmover. Not since that first
formal call with Hester, after the garden-party, had
he stood trembling at the top of that broad flight of
stone steps, hesitating to lay sacrilegious hands on
the heavy brass handle which would summon the stout,
florid butler from his retreat. On this occasion Jacob
was forced, after a decently long interval, to essay a
second and less timorous attack on the bell-handle,
which he did not observe to lack the brilliance that
is expected of titled fittings. Lady Flora March,
coming to that door, gloveless, as with her aristo-
cratic contempt for small conventions she might have
come, would have hesitated to soil her fingers by
handling that orange-coloured brass, but to Jacob its
massiveness was impressive ; he did not see that it was
dirty. Nor had he realized the many other failures
of the Elmover household ; he had not discovered that
the chief authority being culpable, every dependent
had taken his or her tone from the head, and had
fallen into neglectful untidiness. There was little law
or order in that big house. Sir Anthony, grown sulky
and careless, took no heed of his servants' lapses from
duty; a man of small intelligence and idle habits,
cut off, largely, from the society of his own rank,
he had degenerated into a condition of sluggish ac-
ceptance. Lady Felmersdale alternated between brief
fits of bullying energy, which often resulted in a

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 197

wholesale giving of notice by servants, and a complete
sinking of all dignity and authority during periods of
indulgence; periods during which she was willing to
hob-nob with the housekeeper, who on her part was
ready enough to take advantage of the familiarity,
and to use it for her own ends.

Jacob's second ring at the bell compelled the butler
from his retreat.

" Is Lady Felmersdale in ? " asked Jacob timo-
rously. He has decided that on all counts this was
the proper inquiry, and if only he could see Made-
line's mother first and ascertain how far the ogre was
prepared, he thought he might gain courage.

Butler Morgan had not, apparently, received any
instructions as to Jacob's visit, for he hesitated vis-
ibly before replying, " I could n't say, sir. I '11
inquire."

Jacob was ushered into the great hall, one of the
finest apartments in Elmover, and shivered through
ten minutes. At first he sat on a Chesterfield by one
of the fireplaces, where an ill-tended fire burned in-
hospitably black; then he wandered round and in-
spected the wonderful historic clock that is so many
other things besides a clock, and always he listened
with high-strung attention for the sound of voices,
Lady Felmersdale's, Madeline's, or even Nina's ; yes,
he would have welcomed Nina wholeheartedly as a
friend, even though she would have damped him with
gloomy pessimism.

At last came the sound of a closing door, and Mor-
gan returned to say that Lady Felmersdale was not
at 'ome, but Sir Anthony would see Mr. Stahl. " This
way, sir," said Morgan, and Jacob followed like a
victim to the scaffold, seeking consolation in the
thought that " He must know, then," and " There 's
absolutely nothing to be afraid of."

198 JACOB STAHL

6.

Sir Anthony was sitting back in a deep, comfort-
able-looking chair. He was dressed in an old tweed
suit and slippers, and was very evidently only just
awakened from a prolonged nap.

" Hullo ! Sit down," was his greeting, and he
pointed to a chair like his own at the opposite side of
the fireplace.

Jacob was embarrassed from the outset by the dis-
posal of his straw hat — the month was May, and he
detested the hideous bowler — his stick and gloves.
The latter had been carefully removed while he waited
in the hall; he had anticipated a shaking of hands,
a civility which Sir Anthony did not offer. The floor
was the only place for these encumbrances, and Mor-
gan, receiving a curt nod of dismissal from his mas-
ter, allowed them to remain there. Jacob sat down,
not too far back in that enveloping chair, but far
enough to deny that he sat on the edge of it.

The door had been discreetly closed, but words did
not come, there followed an eternal three seconds of
silence.

Sir Anthony grunted. " Did you want to see me ? "
he asked at last.

" Yes," stammered Jacob, avoiding the addition of
" please " by a miracle. " I wanted — I 've come
to . . ." He faltered into silence again, half inclined,
even now, to ask for a subscription to the cricket club
and get away undisgraced.

The lord of Elmover had no pity, he merely
grunted again and waited. It came out with a burst,
finally, the result of a self-induced spasm of courage.

" I want to be engaged to your daughter." Ner-
vousness forbade a nice choice of phrases. " I want
to know if you '11 give your consent."

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 199

Sir Anthony made a feeble show of surprise.

" What? What are you talking about? " he said.

" I want you to let me be engaged to Mad — to
Miss Felmersdale," repeated Jacob. " We — we
are . . ."

" Absurd nonsense ! " said Sir Anthony.

" Do you mean you won't let us be engaged ? "
blurted out Jacob, taking the bit between his teeth.

" Of course not. Don't be a young fool," replied
Sir Anthony.

" Of course not, don't be a young fool." That was
so plainly the only possible answer to the son of Her-
mann Stahl, to the nephew of Miss Hester Stahl, who
rented a little cottage at £8 a year from this county
magnate ; to the articled clerk of a Pelsworthy archi-
tect; to the companion of an impossible, middle-class
Bennetts. Young fool, how dared he presume to the
hand of Miss Felmersdale of Elmover! It all came
to Jacob in a rush, he was hot-faced and ashamed to
have contemplated for one moment any aspiring to
Elmover standards. But there was another side to
be considered, and even as Jacob weakly lowered his
head to receive deserved contempt, that side pre-
sented itself to him with startling vividness. How-
ever great and fine was Elmover, its honour was in the
keeping of this same Jacob Stahl, be he what he
might. Yet, feebly, he was anxious to propitiate,
conscious of his ineligibility ; he wanted — with what
painful futility — to please. So, still grasping des-
perately at the thought of responsibility, necessity,
and that confided honour, he compromised his case by
saying in reply to that insulting denial :

" Of course, I know I 'm not in a position, yet,
to . . .»

" You could n't ever be in a position to marry my
daughter," interrupted Sir Anthony.

«00 JACOB STAHL

*' I don't quite see why not."

" It 's absurd. I 've given you my answer. No !
Do you hear.'' No! Not under any circumstances.'*
Sir Anthony raised his voice. He came very near to
shouting.

" But ..." began Jacob.

" No ! I tell you." This time there could be no
doubt that Sir Anthony shouted. " That 's enough !
You can go," and the lord of Elmover heaved himself
out of his chair and rang the bell.

Jacob, confused and hot, collected his belongings.
He was ashamed of himself, his origin, his breeding
and his character. He felt utterly small and ineffi-
cient, and if some finer instinct stirred him to resent-
ment, he gave no sign of that to Sir Anthony. With
humiliation he followed Morgan across the hall, be-
lieving the officious, if slovenly, butler must regard
him with contempt, and when he heard the great door
closed noisily behind him almost before he had crossed
the threshold, he felt the most degraded of pariahs.

7.

Not twenty yards from the hall-door he saw Made-
line. She was sitting on the balustrade of the terrace,
talking to young Bassett, evidently happy and
pleased with herself, her surroundings and her
companion,

" Hullo ! " she said, as Jacob approached. " I 've
been waiting for you ; did n't know you 'd come yet."

Young Bassett frowned. His expression said very
plainly, " Confound the chap, what does he want.^ "

" I was rather early — you said about four," re-
turned Jacob. So it was young Bassett's presence
that had engaged Madeline's attention.

*' I was going to tell you it was no good," Madeline

THE HEART OF ELMOVER J801

continued gaily. " He 's frightfully humpy about
something to-day."

" But he — knew," faltered Jacob, cursing young
Bassett in his heart, and wishing intruders could know
when they were not wanted.

Young Bassett, however, smiled gaily. " You don't
mean Sir Anthony.''" he said, addressing Madeline,
and referring to her last remark. " He was awfully
jolly at lunch."

Madeline had the grace to flush slightly. " Oh !
yes, before you," she explained, " but he was in a
beastly temper this morning."

*' When can I see you ? " asked Jacob pointedly.

"Can't you see me now.''" laughed Madeline.
" I 'm plain enough."

" Pretty enough, you mean," put in young Bassett
inanely.

" Oh ! you shut up," returned Madeline,

*' You know what I mean," Jacob interrupted
crossly, determined to put an end to these horrible
familiarities.

" You seem to have caught daddy's complaint," re-
marked Madeline, at which young Bassett laughed
stupidly, but she lowered herself from the balustrade.

" I say, you 're not going, Miss Felmersdale," pro-
tested young Bassett. " Oh ! look here, you must n't
leave me to entertain myself, you know, it is n't
polite."

" Nina 's somewhere about," replied Madeline,
smiling.

"Oh! hang Nina!"

" I say, who 's not being polite now.'' "

*' Well, anyway, you 're coming back.? "

" Perhaps ! " laughed Madeline, with a wave of her
hand, as she moved away with Jacob. Young Bassett
had the effrontery to kiss his hand in reply. He

202 JACOB STAHL

looked disgustingly fresh, athletic, and well-dressed,
Jacob noticed, but he was an absolute ass, an abso-
lute ass.

They walked in silence till they reached the spinny,
and then Madeline said, " Of course, it was no
earthly?"

" No," returned Jacob shortly.

" Well, I told you that before, but you would do
it," said Madeline.

" / know. / know," returned Jacob crossly. " It 's
not that I 'm thinking about. That does n't make any
difference, really."

" Oh ! does n't it ? It does ! You won't be able to
come up now he knows."

" Do you mind.'' " asked Jacob. Despite his sud-
den, urgent jealousy of young Bassett, despite a no-
ticeable shadow of coolness in her recent behaviour,
despite everything, he still trusted and believed in
her. His question was put as a test, he wanted her
assurance. He wanted comfort even as he had wanted
it many years ago when he had been bullied by Sandy-
hair, as he had wanted it when his mother died.

" I suppose we shall have to face things sooner or
later," was Madeline's disappointing reply.

" Face things? Face what? " he asked.

" You know — we are growing up, we are n't chil-
dren any longer."

" Do you mean to say," stammered Jacob, unable
as yet to grasp the significance of her answer, " that
we must n't see each other — at least, not so much? "

" What 's the good ? It can't lead to anything."

" But, Maidie, you 're mine."

They had come to the gate of the spinny ; Made-
line leaned against it, and kept her eyes on the ground,
fidgeting with her shoe.

" We were only children," she said.

THE HEART OF ELMOVER 203

** But, darling, you can't mean that this is to be
the end? You don't mean that, surely you don't
mean that? "

" What 's the good of going on with it? "

" Do you mean you don't care for me any more? "

Madeline lifted her eyes and looked him straight in
the face. " You can put it that way, if you like,"
she said.

All the insults heaped upon him that afternoon rose
up in Jacob's mind, all his degradations of which this
last was the greatest. That instinct of resentment
which had smouldered in Sir Anthony's presence, burst
into a flame before the girl who had so injured and
wronged him.

" Damn you, damn you all ! " he broke out. " You
are horrible, contemptible, every one of you. There
is n't one of you fit for a decent person to know. I
hate and loathe you. Thank God I need never meet
any one of you again. Let me go ! I want to get
away from you. You 're — I need n't tell you what,
your own conscience will tell you that."

He pushed past Madeline and hurried on to the
stile. He left her ashamed and silent, but she made
no effort to call him back.

Thus Jacob learned to despise the standards of
Elmover.

CHAPTER XVII

NEW HORIZONS
1.

« If only I had n't . . ." or " If only I had . . ."
In retrospect we can direct and form. The choice of
paths has become plain, we think there is no doubt
about which, if one could choose again, would be
selected. Nevertheless, if we could put back time and
still retain knowledge, the precious knowledge mined
from experience, in how many cases would the expe-
rienced choose the other path, the one previously
eschewed? "If only I had known!" If we knew
and could choose we should, indeed, be certain of the
dower of free-will. Yet so often we do know, and
deny it, and later protest, " I went into it with my
eyes open." We never know the fortuities, the mil-
lion and one incalculable things that " happen," and
they are so many that their intrusion may upset the
provisions of the most stable prophet. But the main
issue,? In how many cases do we not anticipate cor-
rectly the main issue ; even for ourselves ? Precedent
and the law of averages are the fundamentals of our
calculation, subject to infinite variations, and there-
fore to be scrutinized with all patience and treated as
variables, not as constants, but valuable quantities
which produce results that are sometimes in accord
with the facts. It is sound advice to stick to the fun-
damentals, and if some little unforetellable accident
such as death upsets the sagest algebraist, it must be
regarded as a fortuity and an exception, never as a

NEW HORIZONS W5

precedent or example. Jacob Stahl, passionate and
dejected by turns, may rave or lament. " If only I
had ... if only I had n't . . ." But when he made
his choice the factors were known to him, he had no
reason to anticipate a fortuitous miracle. Yet it is
plain enough, and will become plain also to him as he
grows in knowledge of himself, that, even had the
result been revealed to him by some supernal agency,
he would have done, and will do again, as he did when
he elected for love and experience ; that he would have
hazarded the miracle, and dreamed the possibility that
his case of all cases, supernal interposition and warn-
ing notwithstanding, should prove the exception. In
this he may be regarded as an exemplar; he stands
for the ill-defined fundamental — the exponent may be
calculated by the law of averages.

It was Hester who had to endure the effect of the
storm of self-reproaches and self-pity which was the
first outcome of that bitter experience at Elmover.
To Hester, confession was made that same Sunday
afternoon, not, however, a full confession — the chief
admission was withheld, and the fact that it was so
withheld must be counted to Jacob's credit. For he
longed to boast of past possession. That was the one
consolation to his vanity ; however scorned he might
be now, there was that memory, significant and unde-
niable, to uphold his pride. Yet, wishing that Aunt
Hester should know the great fact which proved so
conclusively that he had not always been a mere object
for contempt, he hid the knowledge from her, and
when, tentatively and with infinite delicacy, she hinted
a question, he denied it with a fervour that left her
convinced. His motive for denial was an ideal of chiv-
alry, there was nothing in it of self-defence ; now that
everything was done with, and there were no conse-
quences to be shirked, he had no fear of the verdict

206 JACOB STAHL

of Society or the penalties of the code as far as he,
himself, was concerned. For his late partner the
thing was quite different, and he found a joy in won-
dering whether she was not on tenter-hooks, fearing
his confession.

2.

She was not. Madeline, the reckless, trusted to his
loyalty by instinct, but she had made a resolution,
briefly, in two words : " Not again." The resolution
included any falling in love, as she was ready to
admit that she had fallen in love with Jacob — for a
season. As a consequence young Bassett, who was
something too forward, soon fell under the shadow
of her displeasure, and after a brief period of hope-
fulness, was summarily snubbed and dismissed. Then
that happened which changed Madeline's outlook, an
accident, though due in a measure to Jacob's forlorn
attack upon Elmover acceptances.

Sir Anthony had a cousin who floated gracefully
on a Society stream. It was not that admirable and
carefully preserved water which upholds the remotest
of the elect, but on it floated many who knew the
remote elect, and Mrs. Fall was prominent among
the many. She had married a younger son, who, by
some strange freak of heredity, had been gifted with
sufficient energy and intelligence to compete with the
trained financial minds of the City. The Hon. Sid-
ney Fall was a name and designation that figured on
prospectuses, and figured not too often nor in con-
nection with the wrong companies. Mrs. Fall, as a
result of her husband's ability, was able to live in
Curzon Street, and in consequence of her own and
her husband's family, she was able to float within
hailing distance of the remotest elect. For the mis-

NEW HORIZONS 207

tress of Elmover she had nothing but contempt, but
she occasionally wrote to Sir Anthony for subscrip-
tions to fashionable charities.

It was the arrival of some such appeal, after the
first suitor had made formal application for the hand
of Miss Felmersdale, that quickened the slow mind
of Sir Anthony into the formulation of a plan of
action. Madeline was evidently growing up, it was
equally evident that a London season under the chap-
eronage of her mother was out of the question. The
plan of taking Madeline up to town and introducing
her to Mrs. Fall as a preliminary to further negotia-
tions was vetoed, for no obvious reason, by Lady
Felmersdale, but it was carried out nevertheless.
Madeline approved the scheme, and her approval was
a force to be reckoned with. On this occasion she
completely bore down her mother's opposition by
sheer force of personality.

Mrs. Fall was a woman of between fifty and sixty,
and childless. If Madeline had been plain or merely
ordinary, Mrs. Fall would have had none of her, but
she saw great possibilities in Madeline. It was true
that she was, to the eyes of one versed in the usages
of Society, gauche and rather awkward in a drawing-
room, at her ease, it is true, but in too countrified a
manner; but there were wonderful possibilities. She
was, indeed, a find; she would be the beauty of the
next season. It was in June that Mrs. Fall first saw
her, too late for a successful introduction into the
full course, but a trial trip was arranged that was
to include a few unimportant functions, the opera on
occasion — the back of the box, — and perhaps
Goodwood. " We can see about that, later," con-
cluded Mrs. Fall, who lapsed now and again into the
royal plural. Afterwards, a finishing school for six
months, one of the most select, some establishment

208 JACOB STAHL

known to Mrs. Fall, which would regard the daugh-
ter of a baronet as a person but one degree above
the middle-classes. And next year, of course, presen-
tation and the whole regatta.

Sir Anthony grunted heavily. He had not fore-
seen all the expenses which this programme involved.
But Madeline joined forces with her new first-cousin-
once-removed, and Sir Anthony was committed for
the whole scheme before he left Curzon Street. In
her triumphant embarkment on the trial trip, Made-
line forgot Jacob as completely as if he had never
existed.

3.

Yet Jacob, also, was planning a new life, and a life
in the same great city which held Madeline, though
his scheme for the future did not include any pros-
pect of meeting her again; he did not even know
that she had gone to stay in London. Ashby Sut-
ton, however, had become impossible to him. It was
full of cruel reminders of the thing he had lost, the
thing he had adored and worshipped. There were
moments of poignant sentimentalism when he en-
treated the skies to give her back to him, moments
in the early morning when he had dreamed of her
and suffered an agony of desire for her presence. . . .

Hester gave him her approval, and at first intended
to leave Ashby Sutton herself; to live in London
lodgings with Jacob. But he was impatient of delay,
and it was arranged that Hester should accompany
him to town, stay with him for a week or two until
he was settled, and then return to her cottage till the
autumn, when she would take up her permanent resi-
dence with Jacob in London.

On a blazing day of early June they arrived in

NEW HORIZONS 809

Gower Street at the rooms which Hester had always
occupied during her brief visits to town. Jacob was
armed with introductions, furnished by Mr. Baker,
and fortified by the sternest of resolutions to work,
work, work. What else, indeed, in the whole worid
was there left to live for?

BOOK THREE
TONY FARRELL

BOOK THREE
TONY FARRELL

CHAPTER XVni

THE OFFICE OF MR. EIDOUT MO&I<EY
1.

It was a new London that opened to Jacob when
Aunt Hester had returned to Ashby Sutton.
Hitherto, even during the last fortnight, it had
seemed a stereotyped place in which you travelled
from point to point along main streets in a jolty,
uncomfortable omnibus that was difficult to enter,
and more difficult still to leave, with dignity; and
had an unscaleable ladder that led to an inaccessible
ridge on the top. This unsightly conveyance de-
posited you near the National Gallery, St. Paul's or
Westminster Abbey, or upon more festive occasions
at the door of an Italian restaurant in Holbom, and
when the interiors of these places had been investi-
gated, another omnibus conveyed you home again.
This, with the dull walk up and down Gower Street
to reach home or the transporting vehicle, appeared
to be London.

But when Aunt Hester had returned to her cot-
tage, and when her warnings of London dangers,
that had been accepted in a spirit of perfect faith,
were gradually discovered to be baseless and negli-
gible, a new world of curious mysteries and strange
possibilities was opened. The third day after Hes-

214 JACOB STAHL

ter's departure, Jacob, in a spirit of reckless ad-
venture, boldly dared an ascent to the knife-board
of one of the jolty omnibuses, and discovered that
the ladder was not unscaleable nor the ridge inac-
cessible, as he had been led to believe. Then the
leaven of doubt began to work in his mind, which
was, as yet, the mind of a child so far as London
was concerned, of a child in leading-strings ; and
once doubt took hold of him, all the absolute, rigid,
infallible truths were found to be merely relative and
open to question in any application. There was that
law concerning Regent Street and Piccadilly Circus,
for instance, the law which ordained that they were
unsafe and unsuitable places for decent people after
sunset, and therefore on no account to be visited on
foot, though they might be traversed in comparative
safety inside an omnibus. This law held Jacob in
thrall for a whole fortnight, so rigid had been its
ordinance, and his belief. But as the leaven of doubt
stirred him to examine the foundations of this law,
he began to question its applicability to his own case,
and, in some fear, he dared the exploration of the
whole length of Regent Street on foot one evening,
soon after the gas lamps were lit, and came to no
harm. It was, perhaps, hardly an exploration, for
he walked fast and kept his head down, the true ex-
ploration came later, after he had gained courage
by immunity from accident.

The passage of these adventures saved him from
nostalgia, and also diverted him for some days from
the prosecution of his search for work. Once he had
learned that London was not bounded by King's
Cross, St. Paul's, Westminster, and the Marble Arch,
and that the dangers of wandering beyond these
limits had been grossly exaggerated, there were such
vast distances and possibilities to be adventured;

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 215

strange, unknown roads that might lead to the most
curious mysteries. One day he went north on the
top of a tram and discovered Hampstead Heath, a
strange, enthralling experience.

2.

A letter from Hester, the third in a week, recalled
him to a sense of duty. He had forgotten his deter-
mination to work, he had for the moment almost for-
gotten Madeline. The introductions furnished by
Mr. Baker had all been delivered during Aunt Hes-
ter's fortnight in town, all save one. None of them
had, as yet, been productive of any result. The
architects visited had been very friendly and polite,
but all appeared to be suffering from a temporary
depression in the building trade, which was compel-
ling them to reduce rather than to increase their
staff of assistants. The one letter of introduction
that was still undelivered had been neglected because
it gave little hope of any result. It was addressed
to the incomparable Bradley, the model pupil, who,
despite his brilliant promise, was still an assistant,
and therefore not in a position to offer Jacob a stool
in his office. Still, he might be able to furnish other
introductions, and, moreover, his place of business
was in Moorgate Street, a new field for discovery.
A map indicated that the place sought was near the
Bank, a goal familiar by name, from its free adver-
tisement by omnibus conductors, though it had needed
the knowledge of Hester to translate the strange cry
" Obanerbenk," which seemed part of the Oxford
Street atmosphere. There were many wonderful dis-
coveries made from the knife-board of the bus that
carried him into the unknown City — Holborn Via-
duct, Newgate, the Blue-coat School — and Jacob had

»ie JACOB STAHL

quite a shock when his old friend St. Paul's gloomed
down at him from the comer by the General Post-Office.
It was his first experience in connecting up the diver-
gent thoroughfares that had been explored separately.
The Mansion House, the Royal Exchange, and the
Bank almost diverted him from his intention of visit-
ing Mr. Bradley, but after a cursory inspection of
these famous buildings, he forced himself to stern
duty, and having made inquiry of a policeman, he ad-
ventured up Princess Street on foot, and discovered
171, Moorgate Street, and the name and designa-
tion of Mr. Bradley's employer, Ridout Morley,
F.R.I. B. A., Architect, on an unobtrusive brass plate
— one of about fifty. The office was on the fifth
floor, and Jacob, not realizing the advantages of a
lift, climbed more than a hundred lead-covered stairs
before he was confronted with a board bearing the
same legend as the plate below, with the addition of a
misshapen hand that pointed, and the word " Offices."

He tapped nervously at a door with a big ground-
glass panel, that also bore in black letters the name
Ridout Morley — Architect, before he noticed that
in smaller letters in one corner was the word " Enter."
Timidly afraid of doing the wrong thing, he opened
the door, and found himself in a passage lit by a sky-
light. On his right was another door with an
obscured glass panel, inscribed " Ridout Morley.
Private." That would n't do, he reflected, and hesi-
tated towards the obscurity at the end of the passage,
found another door marked " Private " and another
marked " Office," summoned up courage to tap at the
door of the office, and was encouraged by a shout from
the other side to " Come in ! "

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 217

He accepted the encouragement, and found himself
in a sort of horse-box, surrounded by a six-foot-high
glazed screen with one narrow egress into the office,
barred by a dwarf door and a narrow, flat counter.
A short, thickset man was the only visible occupant
of the place, and he was too engrossed in his work to
take any notice of callers. Jacob waited quietly for
what seemed a considerable time ; he peered round the
edge of the horse-box and discovered two more stools,
one with a drawing-board in front of it, in line with
the engrossed figure in front of him, but both stools
were unoccupied. Presently he rapped very gently
on the flap-counter in front of him, and after a decent
interval rapped again somewhat louder.

The short man glanced over his shoulder impa-
tiently, " 'Ere; boy! Bates !" he called ; " where 's
everyone gone? " And then, realizing that he was in
sole possession of the office, he pivoted on his stool,
and discovered to Jacob the face of a middle-aged
man with an immense brown moustache.

" Well ? What 's for you ? " demanded this in-
dividual.

" Is Mr. Bradley in.'' " asked Jacob.

" Bradley.? Oh, you '11 find 'im in the next room.
Down the passage on the left."

" Oh, thanks ! " returned Jacob, but as he turned
to go, he was met by a little old man with a bald head
and a short grey beard, who was coming in hurriedly,
rolling up a cloth cricket-cap, and attempting to cram
it into the pocket of the short alpaca jacket he was
wearing.

" 'Ere, Grover ! " called out the man with the big
moustache to the newcomer, " you Ve got nothing to
do. Show this man where to find Bradley."

The reply to this command was a complicated series
of silent gestures from the old man with the cap, which

218 JACOB STAHL

was now partly stowed out of sight, a lateral, indica-
tive pointing both with head and a not over-clean
thumb in the direction of the second room marked
" Private." These gestures were accompanied by an
elevation of the eyebrows, and the framing of some
question with the lips — Jacob j umped to the con-
clusion that the little old man was dumb.

" 'E 's all right," said the man with the moustache,
interpreting with great readiness the import of this
pantomime. " 'E 's in there with Bates — busy, like
me."

" Has he been to my board? " asked the little old
man, in an anxious, high-pitched voice.

" No, 'as n't been in at all," replied the busy man,
and abruptly turned his back and continued his in-
terrupted work.

Apparently relieved of anxiety, the little man
turned to Jacob with a sudden assumption of
authority.

" Do you want to see Mr. Bradley on business ? "
he asked.

" M-yes," returned Jacob. " That is to say —
I 've a letter of introduction to him."

"Where's the boy?" asked the little man, ad-
dressing the back of his industrious colleague.

" Out," replied that gentleman, without turning
round.

" He 's no business to be out when Bates is in with
the guv'nor," whined the little man, and then to
Jacob: "Mr. Bradley is very busy, but I'll see if
he can attend to you. Where 's your letter ? " Jacob
delivered it, and the little man trotted along the pas-
sage, opened the door on the right of the entrance,
and disappeared.

Jacob waited patiently in the skylit passage, won-
dering whether he was destined to know more of these

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 219

mysterious people, whether the two he had seen were
experts in their profession, and whether all the assist-
ants on Mr. Morley's staff were of the same social
standing? His conjectures were interrupted by the
reappearance of the bald-headed little man, who
hardly paused to say " Mr. Bradley '11 see you in a
minute," and then with a great show of bustle and
anxiety, made his way back to the other office.

4.

Jacob was so absorbed in watching him, and in
wondering what it was the little man reminded him
of — he rather thought it was the White Rabbit in
" Alice in Wonderland " — that he did not hear Mr.
Bradley come out into the passage, and started when
someone said, cordially, " How do you do, Mr. Stahl ?
How 's Pelsworthy getting on ? "

Jacob took the hand offered him, and replied to the
effect that Pelsworthy was much as usual. There was
something about Mr. Bradley that invited confidence;
Jacob felt as if he had met an old acquaintance, and
his nervousness vanished.

Owen Bradley was a man of thirty-three or four,
with smooth hair of remarkable fairness, and notice-
ably lighter in colour than his small closely-trimmed
moustache. He had a fresh, clean complexion and
blue eyes which always required the assistance of spec-
tacles — one pair for working, another for general
purposes. The end of a leather spectacle case pro-
jected from his upper waistcoat pocket, and there was
a complete indication of the whole method of the man
in his neat, rapid exchange of one pair of gold-rimmed
glasses for the other.

They sat down on two imitation mahogany, round-
bottomed, wooden armchairs, and fell at once into an

«20 JACOB STAHL

easy conversation on the subjects of Bennetts, Mr.
Baker, and other topics of mutual interest.

Presently they came to business.

" I suppose you did n't want to see me about any-
thing particular? " asked Bradley.

" Well! I 'm looking for a job," said Jacob. " I
don't know if you happen to know of one? "

" Depends what sort of a job you 're looking for,"
Bradley replied. " I believe Morley wants another
tracer, but I don't expect it means more than twenty-
five bob a week."

" I would n't mind taking that to start with," said
Jacob thoughtfully. "I — I 've got enough of my
own to get along on — but what ought I to do? . . ."

" If you '11 wait here half a j iff , I '11 go and see
him," said Bradley.

" That 's awfully good of you ! " said Jacob grate-
fully. " Are you sure you don't mind ? "

" Of course not," replied Bradley, and wasted no
time in further preliminaries.

He returned in less than a minute to say that Mr.
Morley was still engaged in dictating letters to the
clerk and could not be disturbed, but that arrange-
ments had been made for information to be given to
them the moment that Mr. Morley should be free.

Jacob began to ask questions concerning the other
workers in this important office. " Who 's that funny
little man with the bald head? " he asked.

" Oh ! that 's Grover, our damager," said Bradley
with a smile — Jacob understood that this was a face-
tious rendering of the word " manager " — " He 's of
no account ! "

** He looks rather a worm . . ." ventured Jacob.

" Yes — he is rather like that."

** And who 's the man with the big moustache? '*

" In the front office? That 's Merrick."

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 231

" Does n't he — drop his h's rather? "

Bradley smiled again. " In some words he does."
He paused a moment, and then added : " No class,
of course."

It was the first time Jacob had heard this descrip-
tive phrase, but the meaning was obvious, and he took
it up at once, and answered : " No class ? No, I sup-
pose not."

" It surprises you rather, does it? " asked Bradley.
" This ofBce is, perhaps, hardly typical. There are
no pupils, and men like — well, Merrick " — he
dropped his voice — " have been office boys once and
worked their way up, like solicitors' clerks, you know.
Only for Heaven's sake, never let Merrick know, if
you should come here, that I told you he 'd ever been
an office boy. He 's a very decent chap, really, and a
splendid worker."

" Rather not," said Jacob.

*' Does n't make any difference to your wanting to
come here ? " asked Bradley.

" Oh, Lord, no ! " answered Jacob. " I 'm not that
sort." He was about to add that he was, indeed, ex-
tremely anxious to come there, but he was stopped by
the appearance of a cadaverous, black-haired young
man, who came from the front office.

" Guv'nor 's finished now," said this individual in
an undertone, speaking to Bradley. " Look slippy
— he 's j ust off to Birmingham. Don't make him
miss his train."

" All right," said Bradley, and was moving away,
when there was heard the sharp click of a key being
turned in a lock.

" Here he is ! " said the black-haired man, and beat
a hasty retreat. Next moment the door of Mr. Mor-
ley's private room was opened sharply, and the prin-
cipal himself appeared.

JACOB STAHL

6.

Already Jacob had sensed something of the at-
mosphere of this office, something of the feeling for
its head, a feeling that was not all fear nor all re-
spect, yet a certain apprehension which included these
attitudes. Some such feeling, perhaps, as the minis-
ters round the throne of an autocrat might exhibit,
ministers capable of criticizing the wisdom of their
master, yet all dependent on his good-will for their
tenure of office. Sensitive to this atmospheric influ-
ence, Jacob had the sensation of being discovered in
misdoing, as Mr. Ridout Morley came briskly down
the passage.

He was a man of between forty and fifty, rather
below the middle height, three or four inches shorter
than either Jacob or Bradley. His hair was of an
uncertain tint, much the colour of a well-used rope;
and he wore a moustache and thin flat side-whiskers
broadening at the base, just below his ear. He had
a high but unhealthy-looking complexion and pale
blue eyes ; in his movements he was alert, active,
rapid.

" Might I speak to you a moment, sir ? " asked
Bradley, stepping forward.

" Yes ! What is it ? I have n't much time," replied
Mr. Morley, briskly.

" I believe you were thinking of engaging another
tracer," said Bradley, deliberately, " and a friend of
mine, Mr. Stahl," — he introduced Jacob by an indi-
cative gesture, and Jacob made an attempt to com-
promise a bow and a nod — " who has been in the
same office as I was before I came to town, is anxious
to get into a big office where there is plenty of work,
— for the sake of experience."

*' Yes," replied Mr. Morley, and turning to Jacob

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 223

with a benevolent condescension, he asked : " You 've
served your articles ? "

" Yes, I was articled for three years in Pels-
worthy," said Jacob, " and I stayed on as an improver
for a few months."

" I 'm afraid I can't stop now," said Mr. Morley,
looking at his watch. " Come and see me on Monday
at half-past nine, and bring any specimens of your
work you have. Good-morning." And Mr. Morley
politely shook hands with Jacob, and left him mur-
muring unintelligible thanks. They heard him ring
for the lift, and then, as his call did not meet with
immediate response, trot rapidly down the stairs.

6

The door from which Bradley had emerged was
opened immediately, and a rather smartly-dressed
youth came out. "Was that him went.'' " he asked,
with an indicative jerk of the head in the direction of
the stairs.

Bradley nodded.

" Gone for the day, has n't he ? " continued the
youth.

" Won't be back till Monday," replied Bradley.

"Oh! terrific business — tire-riffic," jubilated the
youth and disappeared again with a slam.

" Who 's that? " asked the amused Jacob.

" Tony Farrell," said Bradley.

" Rather a funny chap, is n't he ? "

"He's a clever beggar," said Bradley; "but he
wastes his time. Let 's sit down. Do you smoke ? "

" Rather ! But I say, are you allowed to smoke —
here.'' "

" Only when the guv'nor 's out," rejoined Bradley.
" Shall I roll you a cigarette ."^ "

<2»4 JACOB STAHL

Jacob, liowever, had cigarettes all ready for con-
sumption, but Bradley refused the offered case, ex-
cusing himself with the remark that he always made
his own, and he gave a very neat, capable exhibition
of the art.

When they were comfortably settled, Jacob said:
" Do you think I 've any chance of getting here? "

" Cert., I should say," replied Bradley, with quiet
confidence.

" Really ? Why do you think so ? "

" He wants a tracer, and you 've dropped in at
the right moment. The only thing he asked was
whether you had served your articles. That 's his
note, now. He wants to raise the tone. Farrell got
his job here chiefly because he was rather ' more
class ' than the average ; Leigh- Weston, too, you
have n't seen him yet. All you 've got to do on Mon-
day is to rub in what I said about wanting to come
to a big office with lots of work going, his pride is
open to attack on that point, and put on your Sun-
day behaviour. He probably won't look at your
drawings."

"What sort of man is he.'*" Jacob asked, and
added : " You don't mind telling me these things, do
you.?"

"Of course not," said Bradley. "What sort.''
Well, a real good sort at bottom. I 've been here six
years, and Grover, old Eckholt, Merrick, and Illing-
ton for about twenty. Two years ago there was n't a
stroke of work going, and Morley kept us all on, we
five and Bates, — that dark chap who came out to
tell me Morley was free ; he 's the clerk — Morley
kept us on, and paid us full screw when there was n't
a penny coming in."

" That was very decent of him," commented Jacob.

" Very decent."

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 226

" But there 's plenty of work, now? "

" Plenty ! We won the North- Western Hospital
Competition. Did n't you see it ? It was in all the
papers."

" Of course. I remember now. Yes — Ridout
Morley," assented Jacob. " But do you know, it
never occurred to me to connect the name with this
office. Stupid of me! It was a tremendous job,
was n't it ? "

" Quarter of a million."

" By Jove ! Quarter of a million," repeated Jacob
breathlessly. " I suppose it 's still going on," he
added.

" They only started on the foundations three
months ago," replied Bradley, " the contract date
for completion is two years and a half ahead."

Jacob meditated in amazement over the thought
of this stupendous contract. He was dimly pictur-
ing some vast self-contained building, he had no
knowledge of the detail of hospital building nor any
recollection of the drawings of this particular hos-
pital which he had casually glanced over in the build-
ing papers, a year before. *' How many of you are
there here? " he asked, reflecting on the enormous
number of drawings required.

Bradley made a mental calculation. " Eight
draughtsmen," he answered, " besides the clerk and
the office boy."

Jacob whistled. " It is a big office," he remarked.

" It '11 probably be bigger before long," replied
Bradley. " There are one or two more large jobs
on the tapis."

They continued to discuss Mr. Morley's promising
business outlook until they were interrupted by the
reappearance of Mr. Tony Farrell.

" Going out ? " asked Bradley.

226 JACOB STAHL

Farrell paused. " I 'm just going to see a man
about a dog," he remarked.

" Let me introduce you to Mr. Stahl," said Brad-
ley ; " he 's coming to work here on Monday."

" Perhaps," interpolated Jacob.

" It 's not a bad place, when the grand inquisitor 's
at Brum playing with bricks," said Mr. Farrell, as
he shook hands with Jacob ; " but he 's got a poison-
ous habit of relying too much on his clerk-of- works,
has n't he, Bradder? "

" He 's more confidence in him than he has in us,
I expect," said Bradley.

" It 's perfectly sickening the way he distrusts
us," returned Farrell with mock earnestness. " After
we 've slaved and stayed late, and worked our T-
squares to the bone for him. Why does n't he go to
live at Birmingham, and leave us to manage this
end.? "

A high-pitched, complaining voice suddenly broke
into the conversation. " The minute the guv'nor 's
out of the way," it said, " you young men are all in
the passage, smoking and talking. I shall have to
tell Mr. Morley."

Jacob turned and saw the little bald-headed man-
ager, Mr. Grover, and flushed hotly, feeling that he,
too, was included in this reprimand. But Bradley
never budged an inch, nor made any sign of discon-
tinuing his cigarette ; and Farrell turned on the little
man and pretended to examine him with grave curi-
osity. " Why ! It 's Mr. Grover," he said, at last,
with intense surprise.

" There '11 be no work done, and he '11 blame it all
on to me," protested Mr. Grover ill-humouredly, in
his whining voice. " You young men do nothing but
chatter."

" There are worse things than chattering, you

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 227

know, Mr. Grover," responded Farrell, " such as
. . . however, we won't particularize. But if you
should happen to be going to the Mason's Head by
any chance, you might tell them I shan't be in to-day,
will you ? "

" There '11 be a row when the guv'nor comes back,"
protested Mr. Grover as he went out.

When he had gone, Farrell remarked to Jacob:
" Need n't take any notice of him, you know. Com-
plaining and going out for drinks is his job. He
was worried because we saw him go, that was all."

" Train up a child . . ." put in Bradley with ap-
parent inconsequence.

" Oh ! He '11 learn quick enough, if he comes here,"
said Farrell.

" Meaning me.'^ " asked Jacob.

Bradley nodded. " Some of us work," he said.

" I mean to work, too," affirmed Jacob.

" I '11 come and watch you," said Farrell. " It
bucks me up like anything to see other people work-
ing. That dog will be dead, if I don't go. Au
reservoir ! "

*' I suppose . . ." began Jacob, breaking the short
silence which had succeeded Farrell's departure. " I
suppose with so many drawings to be made, it is
almost impossible for Mr. Morley to know exactly
how much has been done while he 's away-f* "

" Making plans already .-^ " asked Bradley.

"Oh! no! I was just wondering."

" It 's very difficult to say how much Morley
guesses ; he never says anything unless the case is
very flagrant — and not much then. You see, the
work is always done, and done in time, some of us see
to that, and if there is a rush we work overtime and
don't get paid anything extra for it. Some of the
slackers, Farrell for instance, make that an excuse

JACOB STAHL

for wasting time, but probably Morley works it out
the other way, and gets his own back by the extra
work we have to put in on occasion. So far as he 's
concerned it pans out pretty well — he 's no nigger-
driver, although he works mighty hard himself.
Some things are taboo, of course, and take it all
round, though we might do a lot more, collectively,
we do all there is to be done and do it pretty well —
the average of mistakes is very low . . ."

" What sort of things are ' taboo ^? " asked Jacob.

" Oh ! well, doing your own work in the guv'nor's
time, for one — Grover does it, but no one else."

" Grover has n't much authority as a manager,
has he.? »

" None, absolutely none. He 's given himself away
too badly, and too often."

" Any other ' taboos ' ? " asked Jacob, who rather
liked the word.

" Slacking when there 's important work to be
done. That 's less a point of honour than a rule
in our own interests. It might mean we should all
have to work overtime. There are other things, too,
but you '11 find out soon enough when you 're here."

" You seem to take it for granted I shall come."

** It 's pretty safe. Take my tip and come pre-
pared to start work right away on Monday morn-
ing — bring your drawing instruments and things.
You '11 want set-squares and scales and pencils,
they 're not supplied."

"And a board.?"

" No, not a board or a T-square."

7.

Bradley's prophecy was realized in detail. Mr.
Morley was very full of business on Monday morn-

THE OFFICE OF MR. RIDOUT MORLEY 229

ing after his three days' absence in Birmingham.
When he arrived at the office a few minutes before
the half-hour, Jacob was waiting for him, seated on
one of the chairs in the passage, feeling nervous and
very like a boy going to a new school. He rose as
his future employer came in, and Morley, who had
completely forgotten his existence, stopped in his
brisk entrance and said, in a kindly tone that was,
nevertheless, touched with a note of impatience:

" Yes .'' Did you want to see me ? "

" You — you told me to come and see you this
morning," said Jacob, " about my coming here —
Mr. Bradley . . ."

"Yes. Yes. I remember, Mr. — " He paused
for the name.

" Stahl," prompted Jacob.

" Stahl, yes, Stahl," went on Morley, taking up the
name promptly. " You 'd better work in Mr. Brad-
ley's room," and he turned quickly and marched into
the indicated department, Jacob following with his
parcel of mathematical instruments and his big roll
of drawings.

" No one here yet," continued Mr. Morley, taking
out his watch. " Oh ! it 's not quite half-past. Ask
Mr. Bradley to give you some work when he ar-
rives." He was turning to go, but misreading the
look of hesitation on Jacob's face, he paused and
added : " We did n't settle anything about salary, I
believe. I am afraid I can only offer you a position
as tracer to start with — thirty shilHngs a week, if
you are prepared to accept that."

" Oh, yes, thank you ; it was n't that," said Jacob.
" I thought you would want to see some of my draw-
ings, i)erhaps, I . . ."

" Certainly, certainly," replied Morley, hurriedly
taking the imposing roll which Jacob was wobbling

280 JACOB STAHL

uncertainly in his direction. " Certainly," he re-
peated as he made a rapid exit.

" Wonder why I always make such an ass of my-
self.? " pondered Jacob, seating himself on a high
stool to await the appearance of Bradley.

He was a little anxious as to the final outcome of
this unorthodox method of engagement. Those draw-
ings might still tell against him. He had gone
through them all very carefully, weighing the merits
of his earlier efforts in the light of later experience,
and uncertain whether to include all his specimens-
After wavering for more than an hour, he had de-
cided that it would be best to make as good a show
as possible, arranged the best specimens on the top,
and added pencil notes in a bold hand on some of
the lower ones, explaining reasons for certain faults,
which he noted on the drawings themselves, in the
most technical terms at his command. " That '11
look as if I knew something about it, anyhow," he
had murmured to himself, " better than letting him
spot the howlers for himself."

Now, he pondered the effect these drawings might
have upon Mr. Morley, and whether it were possible
that they might adversely influence his decision. The
actual story of the drawings is soon disposed of.
Some three months after Jacob's admission to the
office of Mr. Ridout Morley, the clerk. Bates, came in
one afternoon with a big roll in his hands.

" This belong to you ? " he asked Jacob. " It 's
been knocking round our office ever since you came.
Guv'nor gave it to me, and I put it under the desk
— Phew! pretty dusty, ain't it?"

CHAPTER XIX

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES
1.

Aunt Hester received a very full and glowing ac-
count of Jacob's entry into, the world of serious,
strenuous work. It was an optimistic, rather thought-
less letter, full of Jacob's prospects and the wonders
of his great achievement in getting a berth so soon,
and at so encouraging a salary as £78 a year. " Very
good, really, as things go," explained the writer, and
added a precis of pessimistic anecdotes, gleaned from
Bennetts, which described the unhappy experiences
of the ordinary, average seeker after engagements
in the offices of architects. " Of course, it was a bit
of luck," he went on, but he did not mention the fact
that his drawings had played no part in his engage-
ment ; there was no direct misrepresentation, the fact
was omitted, that was all. The letter had a sting
in the tail. " I don't think you had better make any
plans yet as to coming to town," Jacob had written.
" It is just possible that I may share rooms, later,
with one of the men at the office, but I will let you
know as soon as I know definitely." Jacob did not
polish his style when writing to Aunt Hester.

The suggestion as to sharing rooms was the hap-
piest excuse he had been able to invent, and had no
reference to any actual proposition, but having writ-
ten it, he pondered the notion and wondered whether
it were not a sound idea. He thought not of Brad-
ley but of Tony Farrell in this connection, for his

282 JACOB STAHL

desires were towards freedom, and Bradley would be
a restraining influence. That burning to be free of
all restraint had prompted the paragraph which was
such bitter reading to Hester. Jacob had known the
effect it would have, as he wrote, but he had deliber-
ately combated and beaten down the thought of self-
sacrifice. It was impossible that he should always
be in leading-strings, he wanted to adventure out by
himself into this mysterious world and life of Lon-
don, not to be taken inside that limiting, respectable
omnibus. He was an anarchist ; in revolt against all
those limiting, clearly defined laws which he was
proving daily to be untrue and groundless. He was
at the outset of a long adventure, not only into
physical but, also, into mental experience, an expe-
rience begun at the Wheatsheaf, continued within the
purlieus of Elmover, and now expanding vigorously
in the atmosphere of new knowledge. For twenty-
one years, though he did not yet realize the fact,
himself, he had been cramped and thwarted in his
intellectual training. One group of ideas had been
taught to him with all the weight of certain au-
thority. Ideas they were, but not communicated as
such. There had been no hint that those infallible
rules of life, those rigid explanations of the origins
of human existence and of its ultimate goal, were
founded upon any hypothesis ; there had been no
statement of a case which a pupil might decide on
its merits.

" This is the law," was the formula that might
have heralded all religious and moral precepts ; and
*' This is the best " where the application was to any
rule of human life which obviously admitted of an
alternative.

Not that these laws and rules and preferences had,
in Jacob's case, been taught dogmatically with stem

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 233

warnings and threats of future punishment and disas-
ter if they were neglected. Neither Fearon nor Hes-
ter had had anything of the Calvinist in their com-
positions, but the ordinances were accepted without
the least doubt or question, and the denial of them
was something to be ashamed of, or brushed aside,
as the case might be. Thus Fearon would speak with
a disapproving frown of a certain cobbler in Ashby
Sutton as a Radical, whose perverted state of mind
was aggravated by the fact that he was also a chapel-
goer. Even Aunt Hester, with all her generous ten-
dencies, implied that the cobbler was some kind of
reprobate, outside the pale of human intercourse. She
did not accuse him, but by her very defence one could
only infer that Hales the cobbler was very open to
attack. Hales, in fact, was mistaken in his views,
and Jacob regarded all Radicals and chapel-goers
as curiously perverted people, to be looked down
upon with contempt.

It was chance alone that the laws of the Estab-
lished Church and the traditions of a limiting con-
servatism should have been the rule by which Jacob
was confined from the time his mind had been ready
to receive any impressions on the subject. It would
have been no better, no less limiting for him, if he
had been taught the rule of Nonconformity, Roman
Catholicism or of Mahomet, nor even, though the
very word should speak of free and unrestrained
opinion, any Liberal political creed, if it were
bounded by a rigid denial of possible dissent. Chance,
however, had ordained certain formulae in the case
of Jacob Stahl, and there need be no question of
whether the limitations imposed upon him by these
particular formulae are those which we favour or con-
demn. Whether they be in conformity with our own
leanings or not, we should admit that they are open

234 JACOB STAHL

to attack. Conservative, Liberal or Radical; mem-
ber of the Established Church of England, Noncon-
formist or Mahometan, we can only say this is our
working hypothesis ; there is no last human author-
ity, whether an individual or a majority, which can
decide the question for us ; but, nevertheless, we pro-
test, most of us, I am right and you are damned,
politically or eternally, and I hope most fervently
that no child of mine will ever become a Conservative,
a Liberal or a Socialist, as the case may be. But
what of the child, what of Jacob Stahl, if he have the
wit to examine the foundations of our belief? And
dissent? One tiling is certain, his reaction will be
the greater for our dogmatism, and we shall have
impeded first and then hindered his development ; his
arrival at any synthesis on his own account. If we
had given him a choice, if we had stated a case, how-
ever prejudiced, he would have had a better chance
of arriving at the point of view that we had chosen
for our own, than he will after he has discovered that
our infallible laws are merely working hypotheses,
when he has begun to think, to doubt; for then he
may err as far on the other side, he may be as fanatic
in his denial of our principles as we had been in
affirmation.

2.

The struggle for a dimly visualized freedom took
the path of least resistance in Jacob's case. He had
in him none of the virtues or powers of the militant
reformer, the breaker of idols. It would, plainly,
have exhibited a more admirable temper if he had
acceded to Aunt Hester's plan of living with him in
town, and had then made his declaration of inde-
pendence, asserted his individuality, and fought for

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 236

the demonstrable rectitude of his attitude, step by
step. There were two reasons against this fearless
avowal of his revolt from conformity. The first that
in his heart Jacob was by no means conscious of
demonstrable rectitude. The principles he had ab-
sorbed had become a habit of mind, and at this stage
it was the practice only, and not the theory he was
tentatively opposing. His first experience in the
affairs of love he was willing to defend, for that had
been, to him, a great and wonderful affair. So far
as he was concerned there had been nothing small or
self-seeking in it. He had worshipped and had never
been allowed to reach the stage of satiety. His wor-
ship had been disdained, and he had been thrust out
of the temple, but it had been a temple, and he did
not reproach himself. But in the dimly projected
adventures upon which he sometimes allowed his im-
agination to dwell, there was nothing to hallow and
sanctify his shadowy conceptions. At times he was
ashamed of his own propensities, and only granted
himself absolution on an objective promise of repent-
ance, made to himself with repeated asseverations.
Subjectively, no doubt, some little dancing devil
whispered that he could repent as well after the act,
and the advice was noted and docketed in a comer
of his intelligence for future use ; though at the time
of repentance the suggestion was crushed under ob-
jective asseverations. Thus, being ashamed of the
thoughts of his mind, Jacob was in no spirit to dem-
onstrate his splendid rectitude to another. In this
he was merely breaking away from certain conven-
tions, and erring by reaction.

The second reason was one of temperament. Jacob
was not a fighter except by fits and starts. For a
day, two days, a week, perhaps, he could maintain
an attitude against opposition or reproof, but after

236 JACOB STAHL

that he tired, and from sheer weariness would con-
cede the point at issue, concede it for the sake of
rest and peace. Hester, keenly intuitive in all that
concerned Jacob, knew this, but she was shrewd
enough to know, also, that to exercise her own powers
of resolution in breaking down his opposition would
be to turn the boy against her. That she could not
face; even for the sake of a principle. It was her
weakness, and if she lamented, now, that she had not
fought stubbornly over the Elmover affair, she ad-
mitted to herself that if she were faced with another
such struggle, she would not contest it. Too devoted
a love, however disinterested, may make us cowards,
and even what the world calls sinners. If Jacob had
committed a murder and confessed it to Hester, she
would have become his accessory, and done every-
thing in her power to shield him, for which she would
have appeared as a criminal in the eyes of the law.
There is nothing about motive in the code, though
there is a wise leniency in its administration.

The first upshot of Jacob's bid for freedom was a
reproachful letter from Aunt Hester, which made him
first angry and then sorry. " You have no use for
an old woman like me, now, I suppose," was the es-
sence of the complaint. " I thought we might have
had such a nice little home together, but no doubt,
you are making a lot of new friends." Hester's tact
often failed her when she took up a pen, she had little
power to express herself on paper.

" Oh ! Lord, it is n't that ! Can't she understand
that I 'm not a child any longer ? " was the refrain
of Jacob's first outburst on receiving these reproaches.
It was not that, truly, but when faced with phrasing
exactly what it was, in his reply, he found a difficulty,
and compromised — sorry now that Hester had been
wounded — with warm expressions of constant love

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 1887

and filial devotion — and a procrastination. " We
won't settle it, now, anyway," he wrote. " I shall be
able to come down to Ashby Sutton for the August
Bank Holiday in a few weeks' time, and then we '11
talk it all over." As he wrote, he almost relented.
After all it would be nice in many ways to have Aunt
Hester with him. He nearly decided to tear up his
letter and write definitely, but he did not feel in-
clined for further efforts of composition just then,
and postponed his submission for a day or two.
Probably the delay made no difference, but it
chanced that Providence, in the person of Mr. Tony
Farrell, interposed before the second letter was
written.

3.

Tony Farrell was a two years' experience. During
that time he wielded an influence, by example and by
occasional precept, chiefly compounded of ridicule.
Then he vanished into the unknown, wrote two letters
from some unimaginable country of Canada, and
ceased to be, so far as Jacob was concerned. Jacob
was intensely assimilative at this period, and it may
seem that the influence distorted his growth. Within
limits this is true enough : men, hke trees, are shaped
by their circumstance. Set too close together they
will either remain dwarfed or shoot up straight and
tall to reach the sunlight; subjected to the pressure
of one prevailing wind they will grow misshapen and
stunted, and never reach perfection of contour or full
development. But the essential character of the man
and the tree remains unaltered, and the hump-backed,
stooping thing stretching its arms desperately in-
land, will grow straight again if transplanted before
the sap has grown too sluggish.

288 JACOB STAHL

For two years Tony Farrell represented the pre-
vailing wind.

The son of a country rector, educated at a pubhc
school, young Farrell was articled at seventeen to a
well-known London architect, and given clearly to
understand that an allowance of £100 a year for
three years was all that he could expect from his
father ; the aggregate of this sum, together with the
cost of his indentures, represented capital saved for
his education, and not surplus income. The alterna-
tive had been another year at school, and then Down-
ing or Cavendish, scholarships being beyond the scope
of Tony's attainment, as at seventeen he was still an
undistinguished member of the " lower fifth." The
opportunity to choose had been offered to Tony, who
had taken London without a moment's hesitation, and
the choice had not been distasteful to Farrell senior,
who was a Trinity Hall man, and regarded most
other Cambridge colleges with some contempt. As a
substitute for a University education, architecture
was suggested because Tony had exhibited some facil-
ity for drawing, and architecture was among the
professions. It was assumed that Tony's prospects
depended entirely on his own capacity for application.

Before his three years were up, Tony was in debt
sixty pounds to the London branch of a firm of
Cambridge tailors, who had " made for " his father
for forty years, and considered themselves justified,
if they ever considered at all, in giving the son un-
limited credit on the strength of their certainty of
obtaining final payment from their older customer
before the son became legally responsible for his own
debts. After the sum had been paid, and a distinct
intimation given that the patronage of Farrell senior
was withdrawn, and that no further responsibility
would be taken, Tony, who was quite willing to re-

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 239

turn to the firm, found himself coldly received, and
his business dealings relegated to a strictly cash basis.
He had followed his father's lead, but, plainly, the
firm suffered little, for old Farrell's dealings had been
limited to one new suit in three years, for more than
a quarter of a century.

When Jacob came to Ridout Morley's office, Tony
Farrell was twenty-six, and for five years had been
living on his own resources, during which time he had
never been quite free from debt, but had never again
made apphcation to his father for financial assistance.

4.

At half-past five, on the evening of the day follow-
ing that procrastinating letter to Aunt Hester, Tony
strolled into " old Eckholt's room," smoking a cigar-
ette. He paused for a moment watching with dumb
admiration the absorption of the three occupants of
the room.

" I suppose you know he 's gone? " he remarked.

Jacob straightened his back and turned round;
Bradley continued his drawing and took no notice,
" old Eckholt " took upon himself the responsibility
of answering the question, which intimated that Mr.
Ridout Morley had left the office for the day.

" You won't work yourself, and won't let others
work," explained old Eckholt ; " why can't you keep
in your own orfice? "

" I 'm a restless spirit," replied Tony, " and I wan-
der to and fro upon the earth seeking someone to play
with."

" Why can't you play in your own room, then,"
retorted old Eckholt, " instead of upsettin' us here.'' "

Jacob and Tony exchanged a wink of mutual
comprehension.

«40 JACOB STAHL

" About that dog — " began Tony.

" I was just coming in to ask you," said Jacob, " a
brown patch over his left ear, I think you said."

" Oh ! take your caninities out into the passage,"
put in Bradley good-humouredly. " I 've got some
work to finish."

" What are you doing to-night ? " asked Tony,
when he and Jacob were seated outside. " I 'm at a
loose end."

" Nothing particular," replied Jacob.

" Come and do a hall. I 'm stony, of course, but
I 'm not down to the old Laurentian yet."

" Who 's the old Laurentian.'' " asked Jacob.

" Geological for bed-rock, my son, where there 's
no more scrapings to be got; abso-bally-lutely the
last word in rocks. I 've sat on it. I asked you a
question, you may remember."

" What was it ? " said Jacob. He regarded
Tony as a remarkable wit. " It 's not only the
things he says, it 's the queer way he has, that is
so funny," Jacob had written of Tony to Aunt
Hester.

" I suggested that we should do a hall together."

Jacob had to confess that he was still unen-
lightened.

" I was proposing," said Tony, with elaborate dis-
tinctness, " that we should visit a music-hall in each
other's company. Is that more like the language they
use in Ashmead Bartlett or whatever the name of the
place was, where you were educated.'' "

" Ashby Sutton," suggested the amused Jacob.

" It 's all the same — why will you go off on to side
issues ? "

" I 'm afraid I don't quite know what a music-hall
is," said Jacob.

"My Lord!" ejaculated Tony, with great solem-

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES Ml

nity, and then added : " But, then, you never even
went to a public school."

" No, I had a private tutor."

*' You 're one of the kippered aristocracy," retorted
Tony.

" Oh ! no ! rather not ! " began Jacob, eager to dis-
claim a spurious reputation for superiority. " I — "

" Don't worry about it," interrupted Tony. " Set
yourself to live it down. It 's easier than you might
think. Let me explain the outstanding features of
a music-hall as known to the initiated."

Tony's explanation interested Jacob immensely.
Theatres he had been to, — a very few — but nothing
so light as a musical comedy; they called them bur-
lesques in those days. Aunt Hester had said bur-
lesques were " vulgar " ; but these music-halls, Far-
rell described, seemed to touch even a lower level,
though Tony, whether to spare Jacob's innocence or
because he feared to frighten him away from the idea
of visiting the " halls," had left one feature of the
entertainment undescribed, a feature not advertised
on the bills or programmes.

" I should like to come, awfully," said Jacob, hot
with the spirit of strange adventure.

5.

** * Prom.' is extract of * promenade,' " explained
Tony.

" But does that mean we shall have to walk about
all the time.'' " asked Jacob.

" You would n't be fined for standing still."

*' But can't we get a seat.^* "

Tony hesitated; he had an instinctive respect for
what he regarded as this " spotless innocence." At
the same time his common-sense urged that knowl-

242 JACOB STAHL

edge must come, and he was not versed in ethical spec-
ulations, he was unable to draw the just inference
from his premisses. He had an instinct to leave
Jacob's thoughts undisturbed, to take him to the
" pit-stalls," and sit patiently through the " show,"
but young men of Tony's type are not apt to be
guided by instincts which point the harder course.
Wherefore Tony argued to himself that it was not
good for Jacob to remain in such profound ignorance
of " life," and took him to the promenade.

" Oh ! yes, there are plenty of seats," was his reply
to Jacob's question, " if you want to sit all through
the show."

" Is n't that what we 've come for.'* " asked Jacob.

Tony smiled. " You '11 see,'" he said, and then by
way of afterthought, " I may possibly meet a friend.
If so, we might go and have a drink, some of
the turns are n't worth watching ; acrobats and
conjurers . . ."

" N — ^no," agreed Jacob, not wishing to exhibit
a false taste in these things, and ashamed to confess
that the idea of acrobats and conjurers appealed to
him as altogether delightful.

Music-hall entertainments have changed little in
the last quarter of a century. In so far as the pro-
gramme is concerned, though a more delicate sense of
morality, or maybe a more vigilant supervision, has
since effected a considerable change in the manage-
ment of the front of the house, a change by which the
music-halls have benefited and the streets suffered.

To Jacob everything was new and wonderful. The
fact that one was allowed to smoke seemed an indica-
tion of ease and luxury, combined with just a suspi-
cion of rakishness that added a piquancy to the ad-
venture. They were early, and plenty of seats were
to be had below the waist-high barrier, which formed

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 243

a convenient lounge for those of the audience who
seemed to prefer standing; and till half-past nine or
thereabouts, Tony and Jacob sat and watched the
various items of the entertainments, the former highly
critical, the latter appreciative, but subduing his
admiration to the note demanded by his companion's
strictures.

At the beginning Jacob was a little uneasy on
occasion. Some of the jokes of an early-appear-
ing " patter comedian " made him feel hot and
uncomfortable.

" Oh ! I say ! " he murmured, and Tony, hearing
him, also felt a little ashamed of the vulgarity which
was being given out from the stage, with no virtue of
wit to cloak its lewdness.

" This chap 's rotten," he commented, " he 's prob-
ably being given a trial week."

" Yes, he 's not funny, is he? " replied Jacob, for
once in conscientious agreement with Tony's criticism.

" Absolutely poisonous," returned Tony, uncon-
scious that for once he was using his favourite adjec-
tive appropriately.

It was during a trapeze act in which Jacob's atten-
tion was entirely absorbed, that Tony, who had been
repeatedly looking over his shoulder at the leaners on
the barrier which bounded the promenade, got up,
and whispering to Jacob, " Just seen someone I know
— I '11 be back directly, keep my seat," made his way
up the gangway and disappeared.

For three " turns " Jacob sat intent on the rapidly
succeeding items of the programme, a little relieved
to be able to listen, undisturbed by the slighting com-
ments of his companion, and then Tony returned and
whispered :

" I 've got a friend here who wants to be introduced
to you, if you can manage to tear yourself away."

244 JACOB STAHL

Jacob turned with a start, expecting to find some
male friend of Tony's waiting to be introduced — but
no friend was visible.

" Oh ! all right ; yes, rather ; I should like to,"
he said, and then, " I say, don't you think this girl 's
rather good-looking? "

The girl referred to, described in the programme,
simply, as a " comedienne," was dressed in very short
skirts, and wore her hair loose ; her song was descrip-
tive of her hypothetical innocence. She could not
sing, did not attempt to dance though she occasion-
ally gathered the skirt of her knee-high frock as if
in preparation, and had no histrionic talent, but she
was graceful and pretty enough — one of the type
of music-hall performers who used to appear for a
time, despite their persistently cold reception by the
audience, and then vanished from the stage, for ever.

" Not bad," replied Tony. " She 's probably about
forty "; in which he did the comedienne an injustice,
for she was quite young.

" Surely not," protested Jacob.

" You can't tell when they 're made up like that.
Come on ! " said Tony, and Jacob reluctantly rose
and accompanied him.

The venue of the introduction was a small alcove
conveniently near the bar and the procession of the
promenade, yet discreetly withdrawn, as it were an
arbour from which the garden is visible but detached.
The flat, wood tracery, which boxed the front of this
little retreat, gave it an air of privacy, though the
open fretwork — it had a suggestion of Moorish art
in its design — did not protect the occupants from
the observation of the inquisitive.

Tony's " friend " was awaiting them. She was a
young woman of from twenty-five to thirty, with a
pale face and red lips. She was wearing a high black

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 246

silk dress, slightly over-flounced and bedecorated, but
not noticeably exaggerated in style even in the mat-
ter of the absurd rear projection which was then the
mode. Her hat was in keeping, there was, perhaps,
just one feather too many, and her brown hair, some
shades lighter than her eyebrows, which owed some-
thing of their blackness to art, was dressed a little too
low over her ears.

" Thought you were n't ever coming," remarked
this young woman languidly, when Tony and Jacob
j oined her. " Introduce me to your friend, Tony."

" Allow me to present Mr. James Smith to you,"
said Tony elaborately, then, turning to Jacob, he
winked covertly, and said aloud : " Jimmy, my boy,
this is Miss Catherine Mason, of whom you have
doubtless heard."

" Not too much of it, Tony," put in Miss Mason,
and then to Jacob, " Pleased to meet you," and she
held out a hand that displayed some remarkably fine
rings, worn outside rather soiled kid gloves which
reached to her elbows.

Jacob stammered out something about being " very
pleased, too," wondering why Tony had called him
James Smith, and had winked at him to accept the
name without question.

" What are you drinking, Kitty ? " asked Tony,
when he and Jacob had sat down inside the alcove.

"Oh! I dunno," returned Kitty. " I 've just had
one," and she pointed to a liqueur glass on the little
brown wooden table in front of her.

" Benedictine.'' " questioned Tony, after a critical
whiff of the indicated glass. " Three Benedictines,"
he said to a waiter, who was lingering in the vicinity,
plainly expecting an order.

To Jacob, all that followed was for evermore asso-
ciated with the cloying, heavy aroma and taste of

246 JACOB STAHL

Benedictine, which completely dominated the smell of
cigarette smoke and the profuse scent worn by Miss
Mason.

" Are you a stranger to town? " asked that young
woman presently, turning to Jacob with an air of
interest.

" I 've been up about a month," he replied, a little
confused by the steadiness of her regard.

" There 's no place like London, is there.'' " she con-
tinued. " You do see life in London."

"Yes, you do, don't you.''" returned Jacob, and
nearly choked over his first taste of Benedictine.

" Don't gulp it, old boy," interpolated Tony.
" It 's not a long drink."

" It is a bit strong," said Jacob, his eyes watering.
*' Jolly good, though."

" Never tried it before ? " asked Miss Mason.

" No, not before," said Jacob.

" This is his first music-hall, too," remarked Tony.
" He 's an innocent lamb — as yet."

Miss Mason drew herself up, throwmg back her
shoulders and taking a deep breath, a handsome
movement that suited her. " What did you bring
him here for, then.^ " she asked of Tony, with some
dignity.

"Oh! he wants to see life, don't you, old boy.?"
replied Tony, slightly abashed.

" Oh ! yes, rather, of course I do," agreed Jacob.

" It seems a pity," said Miss Mason, still dignified.
" I thought you did n't seem quite the sort as come
here ; you 've got a decent look about you."

Jacob did not know what to answer, he did not
imderstand the drift of this young woman's remarks.
He imagined her to be either a relation or an old
friend of Farrell's, and he had wondered dimly
whether her " people " were elsewhere in the house.

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 847

He had wondered, too, whether she was not " rather
fast," but was now quite at a loss to comprehend the
terms in which she was addressing him.

His discomfiture was observed by Tony, who
said:

" Oh, chuck it, Kitty, old girl, he does n't even
know what you 're driving at."

" More shame to you to bring him to a place like
this," replied Miss Mason tartly.

Tony flushed, and Jacob interposed : " I wanted to
come, you know. Miss Mason."

" Because you did n't know what you were coming
to. Look here, dear," she bent down and addressed
Jacob confidentially. " You stay as you are, you 've
got a nice face, and there '11 be plenty of women ready
to fall in love with you. You get married and keep
good, you '11 be happier in the end. As for you,"
she went on, turning to Tony, who had burst into a
high, mocking laugh, " there 's enough of your sort
about ; you 've got nothing to be proud of."

" Oh ! I 'm not proud," said Tony with a sneer,
" only it 's a bit funny to hear you coming the high,
moral game."

" I 've more right to than you, anyhow," returned
the woman angrily, rising to her feet. " It 's the
likes of you as has most to answer for," and she
rustled her way out into the crowd on the promenade,
throwing back her shoulders with that striking dig-
nified movement which suited her tall, handsome figure
so well.

" I don't understand. What 's the row.? " asked
Jacob.

" Come on, the show 's practicaUy over," said
Tony, " let 's get out."

When they were in the street, a hot and dusty
July street that seemed, nevertheless, fresh and cool

248 JACOB STAHL

by contrast with the polluted atmosphere they had
just left, Jacob said:

" I say, who was that girl, was she really a friend
of yours ? "

" Good Lord, no ! " rejoined Tony, who was not in

the best of tempers ; " she was only a " — and

he used an ugly word, and qualified it with an equally
ugly adjective.

6.

Before he went to bed, Jacob consulted his diction-
ary, and spent some time searching under the wrong
initial for Tony's ugly word. Then he tried his Bible,
remembering the word in some Old Testament con-
nection, and after a little trouble hit upon it and
noted his mistake as to spelling. Then the dictionary
came into use again, and if the definition was some-
what vague, it was suflicient.

It may be difficult to understand that there should
be such unlettered spaces as this in a mind such as
Jacob's, a mind in many ways already experienced
and instructed, but this instance is of a phase of
knowledge that does not come by instinct, and there
had been no one to instruct him. If he had been
curious in such matters, a means would have been
found to gratify that curiosity, but his mind was
singularly clean for a young man whose desires were
perfectly normal. Under other, it may be happier,
conditions, he would have remained clean in body also,
but temptation was thrust before him, and if he had
no inclination to seek it, he may still be blamed in that
he made no effort to resist it. At twenty-two Jacob
Stahl was not a developed, reasoning creature. If he
hesitated between two courses, as he had done during
the memorable day when fate had introduced him to

VARIOUS DISCOVERIES 249

the Wheatsheaf claret, his hesitation was due to an
automatic inclination to reject those things which he
had been taught to believe were " wrong," a category
that included the religious and poHtical opinions of
Hales, the cobbler; an inclination heightened, no
doubt, by the fear of perpetual torment and burning,
entailed by the committal of " wrong " deeds or the
holding of unsound opinions. But when the depre-
cated thing is found to be pleasant and to entail no
immediate punishment, the fear of hell is relegated to
the background, — remains always the comforting
assurance that there is time for repentance, — and
the rigid precept ceases to have effect. The impres-
sion of it may remain for a time and be attributed to
the workings of conscience, but when reason fails to
indicate that the outcome of an action or mode of
thought originally labelled " wrong " entails no in-
justice, this impression is rapidly filled up, though,
curiously enough, in some cases it is never quite
obHterated.

Jacob's mind was, at this time, stiff with the miil-
titude of these impressions, and as a consequence his
reason had little play. In this matter which was
now vexing him, reason might, almost certainly would,
have guided him to better ends. Instead he had
nothing but the impression of a precept, and these
precepts were already being foimd to be not universal
in their application. If one were broken, why not
another ?

This night marks a definite stage in the breaking
of precepts, some of which were good and sound and
universal enough, but had nothing to differentiate
them from the others, impressed with equal force, that
were petty and unreasonable. Jacob lying awake
with the heavy odour of Benedictine still in his nos-
trils, and the sight of that graceful, lightly dressed

250 JACOB STAHL

" comedienne," fresh in his memory, was in a condi-
tion when precepts have little restraining power. It
was long before he slept, and when at last sleep came,
his dreams were tainted, for he dreamt that he was
making love to a tall, elegant woman in black silk,
who threw back her fine shoulders with a striking
gesture, and that she was looking at him with bold,
inviting eyes.

CHAPTER XX

ADVENTUEB
1.

The next morning Jacob woke with a headache, an
unpleasant taste in his mouth and an uneasy feehng
in his mind. The two former ailments yielded readily
enough to the treatment of tea followed by breakfast ;
the latter persisted till lunch-time. He arrived at the
office full of good intentions, and was rather disap-
pointed to learn that Mr. Morley would be absent
all day. It was well enough to have good intentions,
but such a waste of opportunity to carry them out on
one of these rare days of freedom. Also, the tracing
he was doing was for Bradley, who was lenient,
whereas it might have been for old Eckholt, who
always desired early completion and nagged till he
got it, though he had his own ways of wasting time,
dreaming over his work, and what Farrell called
" messing about." Yet even the venerable Eckholt
acclaimed his chief's absence, for he was a creature
of routine, loving to do the same things at the same
time in precisely the same way, and the erratic intru-
sions of Mr. Morley, full of initiative, and looking for
a newer and better way of designing some detail of
construction that had been hallowed by tradition,
often upset the patient toil of days and necessitated
alterations in the slowly completed drawings of this
most conservative of his assistants. These intrusions
of a too-vigorous employer accounted for Eckholt's
eagerness to have his tracings completed at the earli-

JACOB STAHL

est possible moment, for he clung to the theory that
a drawing could not be altered after it had been
traced, a theory which he fondly cherished despite all
contradictory facts of experience.

" Well ! We shan't have 'im interfering to-day,
that 's a comfort," was the salute with which old
Eckholt greeted Jacob's appearance on this particu-
lar morning, and inquiry furnished confimiation of
the statement.

Bradley alone, perhaps, of all Mr. Morley's assist-
ants was entirely unaffected by the absence of his
chief; but Bradley was not a propagandist; he was
in no way concerned to alter the habits of his col-
leagues, and the quiet force of his example was little
counterbalance to the energies of Tony Farrell.

Yet in face of all disturbances, Jacob prepared for
a day's strenuous work, though old Eckholt was read-
ing the Standard, though three of the other assist-
ants were discussing billiard handicaps in the lobby,
though old Grover had found it necessary to spend
the day in visiting a small house that was building in
Surrey, though Tony Farrell did not put in an ap-
pearance until half-past ten, though there was a gen-
eral atmosphere of relaxation pervading the whole
office and even Bradley was smoking as he worked.
In face of all this, Jacob was determined to work
because he was suffering a mental reaction. His de-
termination stayed him till half-past twelve — three
hours — a fair test of the powers of determination in
this direction, powers which never accomplish the
world's work.

Tony broke the spell by inviting the toiler to come
out to lunch, and the material of the determination,
already wearing thin, gave out at once.

" Well, I 've pretty nearly finished this," Jacob
looked for some reward; such determinations as his

ADVENTURE «5S

on this morning' always look for acknowledgment.
Bradley was addressed, but it was Tony who replied:

" What 's all this grind for? "

" Why can't you leave him alone when he 's work-
ing? " interpolated old Eckholt, with good intention
but ill effect.

" Glad you 're being such a good boy," said Tony.
" Don't let me disturb you."

" Oh ! don't be an ass," returned Jacob, and then,
still desiring the approval of Bradley, he repeated his
earlier statement that the tracing was nearly finished.

" There 's no hurry for it," remarked Bradley.

As Jacob and Farrell were washing their hands
preparatory to going out, Jacob, pondering Brad-
ley's peculiarities, ventured to remark that Bradley
was a " rum chap."

" He 's one of the exceptions," explained Tony.
" Most people prefer slacking, but the exceptions like
Herbert Spencer and old Bradder prefer working.
It 's just the way you 're made."

" It 's people like Bradder who get on, though."
Jacob would have preferred to be classed among the
exceptions.

" I don't know," rejoined Tony. " It 's mostly
luck at our game unless you 've got influence. What
price the damager for instance? "

"Grover? But he doesn't work!"

" Not now. Chucked it. But he did once. He 's
a clever little blighter, too. He knows his work, in-
side out."

" Does he ? Yes ! I suppose . . ." Jacob was
analyzing; as usual on insufficient premisses, filling up
many blanks with an uninformed imagination.

" Oh ! rather, come on. I want a pick-me-up.
I 've got a shocking head this morning."

Tony, in fact, had by no means recovered from a

«a4 JACOB STAHL

night's dissipation, which had scarcely begun when
he left Jacob at the doors of the music-hall. His
lunch and a whisky-and-soda, however, seemed to re-
new his zest in life, and he afterwards took his com-
panion to a great wilderness of an underground cafe,
in a corner of which they drank coffee and smoked
and talked, Tony pleading that his " head " was not
yet equal to chess or even dominoes. Nevertheless
he monopolized the greater part of a conversation
which was not altogether desultory. It frequently
wandered from the point, it is true, it was broken by
comments on the other frequenters of the big cafe —
most of whom were Germans, — and by interchanges
of pleasantry between Tony and the waitresses, it
went back over the same ground and there were oc-
casional lapses into silence; but, roughly, this con-
versation which lasted for two hours and a half, and
extended itself over tea-time, might be classified into
three distinct sections, the purport of which is
important.

The first section was by way of being an exultant
confession of wrongdoing. Tony entered into the
details of a night's adventure which is for the most
part unreproducible. He touched it here and there
with a faint glamour, but chiefly he assumed an air
of penitence that did not serve to delude his hearer
into any belief in the promised reformation. The
often repeated " By Jove, I must ease up " conveyed
an impression of financial difficulties rather than of
any ethical intention, and the general effect was to
whip Jacob's curiosity and lust for similar adventure,
to make him wish that he had not parted from Tony
so soon on the previous night. But when the recital
staled, and its original quality was hardly remarkable
for freshness, Tony fell into a serious mood, which
seemed to evidence a more genuine repentance. At

ADVENTURE 266

this point the second heading became prominent, and
turned upon the failure of Mr. Morley's manager.
Disregarding the many interpolations, interruptions,
and side issues, Tony's remarks under this heading
may be reproduced in a precis. The essence of his
review followed a question from Jacob:

" But why, if he 's as clever as all that, and used
not to drink, is he such a failure? "

" Sheer bad luck," returned Tony, and then he
lighted a fresh cigarette, leaned one arm on the
marble-topped table, and proceeded with his exposi-
tion. " Sheer — bad — luck. Look here, when he
was a young man he used to go in for competitions
just like Br adder. Went home and swatted away
every evening, making endless drawings for bally
jobs of all sorts."

" Why do you suppose he never won any of 'em,
any of these competitions ? "

" Did n't happen to hit the particular fads of the
assessor, chiefly — it 's all bally luck till you 've won
the first, and then it all comes your way — like Mor-
ley. But, as a matter of fact, my son, Grover did
win a decent competition, and that 's just where his
infernal bad luck comes in. It was for some big
technical schools at Birchester, and Grover's was the
first premiated design. Of course, I was n't at Mor-
ley's then, but I 've heard about it from Merrick.
The morning Grover got his letter from the com-
mittee saying his design had been placed first, he came
up to the office so full of beans he did n't know where
to put himself; pretending to be frightfully modest
about it, of course, but just full up to the eyelet-
holes with pride — you know. He went into the gov-
ernor, told him about it, and asked for two or three
days off, as he had to go up to Birchester to inter-
view the committee. The governor was not best

256 JACOB STAHL

pleased about it, he always thinks if we go in for
competitions that we shall crib his ideas ; however, he
had to congratulate Grover, and Grover went off and
bought himself a new frock coat and a top-hat, and
two or three days later he started off for Birchester.
Well, no one ever quite knew what happened up there,
but we suppose poor little Grover was frightfully
nervous, and took a tonic or two to buck him up be-
fore he interviewed the committee. Then you know
what a worm he looks, and I 'm told he looked a bit
worse before he grew his beard, and naturally enough
the committee did n't care for his appearance much,
and I dare say the tonics he 'd had did n't make him
any sprucer. Anyway, when he came back he was n't
quite so bucked-up. He still supposed he 'd have the
work, but he thought it just possible he might be
asked to collaborate with the Birchester Corporation
architect, because he — Grover I mean — had n't had
any experience in independent practice. About six
weeks afterwards the blow fell. The committee de-
cided to give the work to the winner of the second
premium, who happened to be a young Birchester
man."

" Great Scott ! " ej aculated Jacob. " But do you
mean to say Grover got nothing ? "

" He got the first premium, of course, a hundred
pounds I think it was, and the Birchester architect
used all the best parts of Grover's design, and put his
own name to the job."

" Could n't Grover have brought an action or some-
thing.'' " asked Jacob.

Tony shrugged his shoulders. " How ? What
for.? It's a condition of these things that the first
premiated design is not necessarily accepted, and then
as to using Grover's ideas, well, they 'd bought his
drawings for a hundred pounds."

ADVENTURE «67

" Pretty bad luck."

" I believe you, my boy, and I believe that was what
first sent Grover down the hill. The disappointment
put him on to drinking — he had an inclination that
way, I expect — and the hundred pounds came in
handy to help him."

Jacob missed the excellent moral of the anecdote;
he was picturing to himself how he would have ap-
peared before the committee, contrasting his own
manner and address with those of Grover. This not
in vanity, the picture was too detached, it would have
been nearly complete if another, imaginary, figure
had been substituted for his own, but the imaginary
figure would have lacked convincingness ; Jacob's
dreams always needed reality as a base.

" Oh ! perfectly putrid luck ! " The voice of Tony
interrupted Jacob's dream. " I say, it 's a quarter
to four ; we may as well have tea, now. It 's not
worth while to go back and come out again."

Some faint stirring of the morning's determination
came over Jacob, and he moved a feeble resolution
that it was time to return. " We 've been out three
hours. I shall get jip from the old man, besides, I
rather want to finish that tracing of Bradder's."

" Rats ! Look here," and Tony entered on the
third head of the afternoon's conversation ; " I 'm
chucking my digs next week."

Jacob did not take this opportunity, though it
gave him the very chance he had been seeking to
broach that question of partnership already sug-
gested to Aunt Hester. The truth is that he was
afraid of foisting himself upon Farrell, whom he re-
garded, with innocent admiration, as a man of ex-
perience who condescended in permitting terms of
friendship. Wherefore Jacob temporized with a
question :

268 JACOB STAHL

" You 're living down at Camberwell, somewhere,
are n't you? "

" Cheaper, that 's why."

" Rather a swat getting home at night, is n't it ? "

" All very well for you, my boy, you 're a bloated
millionaire, with money in the Funds and that sort
of thing."

" Where are you going to live now, then ? " Jacob
was still undecided, and Tony on his part hesitated
to put the suggestion into plain words. The dead-
lock was put an end to by the advent of a third person,
otherwise it might have remained undetermined.

" I don't know exactly," said Tony, still hinting.
" I should rather like to share digs with some other
chap — it 's a lot cheaper, only . . . Oh ! Hi !
Dulcie ! A pot of tea for two."

" Taking the afternoon off? " asked Dulcie as she
made her leisurely way to the table at which the two
were sitting. " You seem to have got plenty to talk
about. 'Atching plots, or what? "

" We 've resolved ourselves into a committee of
ways and means. We 're discussing high finance,"
replied Tony.

" High cockalorum more likely," suggested Dulcie,
who always remembered her h's when she had a lead.

" Now, seriously, dear," said Tony, " I 'm looking
out for a partner, not in business ..."

" Thanks ! / 'm not takin' any, if that 's what
you 're 'inting at," returned Dulcie vivaciously, with
all the knowledge of innuendo gleaned in a two years'
experience of a City cafe.

" You 're too quick, my dear," parried Tony, who was
talking with a purpose. " I told you I was serious."

" Feels a bit awkward at fust, I dare say," put
in Dulcie, feeling that a repartee was expected.

" I 'm looking for some fellow to share rooms

ADVENTURE 269

with," went on Tony. " I thought you might know
of some decent sort of chap who was on the look-out
for the same sort of thing."

Dulcie had no objection to being asked for advice
when she daw that her " customers " were seriously
inclined for once in a way, and she rested her knuckles
on the table and wrinkled her forehead to indicate
that she was giving the matter her attention.

" I don't know as I do know of anyone who 'd suit
you. They 're mostly Germans or Jews as come
down 'ere, you know — not your sort at all."

" Not much ; thanks," interpolated Tony.

" Why don't you and your friend live together ? "
suggested Dulcie with a flash of genius ; " or perhaps
he lives with 'is fam'ly? "

Jacob looked at Tony, afraid lest the suggestion
should meet with disapproval, and Tony looked at
Jacob to see how he would take it.

" I don't know why . . ." began Jacob with a
conciliatory smile.

" By Jove ! I believe there are the makings of a
great idea in that," said Tony. " Dulcie, you 're a
genius."

" Well, you men are funny ; fancy waitin' for me
to set you right," beamed Dulcie, distinctly flattered
by the success of her suggestion.

While their tea was in preparation, Tony and
Jacob began to discuss possibilities, and when they
at last returned to the office, little pretence of work
was made by either. Not more than ten minutes had
elapsed before Tony was anxious to continue the mak-
ing of definite plans.

Jacob glanced apprehensively at old Eckholt when
Farrell proposed an adjournment to the lobby in
order to discuss immediate arrangements, but that
veteran was, himself, making plans to go home twenty

260 JACOB STAHL

minutes earlier than was his custom, and he made no
sign of disapproval.

Everything had been discussed in detail, and it was
nearly time to go before Jacob summoned up cour-
age to mention a subject that had been haunting him.

" I say," he said, " you remember what that girl
in the cafe said about your not caring to live with
Jews or Germans.'' Well, you know" — and he
laughed apologetically — " I 'm partly German and
partly Jew."

" Oh ! good Lord, that 's absolutely different,"
replied Farrell ; a remark which points the difference
between the abstract conception of national character-
istics and the practical application to personal likes
and dislikes.

The day had begun with a promise of reform, but
circumstance was too strong. Any feeling of regret
for wasted time was overlaid by the excitement arising
from the anticipation of the new partnership. Tony
was undoubtedly a " blood." Tony 's knowledge of
London, if less extensive, was more peculiar than Mr.
Weller's. Tony " knew the ropes " ; he had said so,
himself. Tony, in fact, had lived, and would, doubt-
less, teach Jacob also how to live ; until now Jacob had
vegetated. . . . At this point of his reflections, how-
ever, Jacob thought of Madeline. That experience
was an exception ; one day, perhaps, he would confide
some particulars to Tony. Not yet. . . .

Jacob was at home, alone, in his lodgings in Gower
Street, and his meditations were enlivening the prog-
ress of his dull meal ; — tea with eggs or fish, the
routine meal of seven o'clock; he had dinner in the
City. The meal had never seemed so dull as it did
to-day. Tony's brilliant conversation might have

ADVENTURE 261

brightened it ; he had been invited, but he had had an
engagement to spend the evening at a friend's house.
" Pretty slow," he had explained, " but they 've got a
billiard-table, thank Heaven." Tony was a " blood " ;
he knew people who had billiard-tables. Jacob had
heard of billiards, but he had never seen the game
played. He knew nothing of life. Now Tony . . .

When the dull meal was finished, Jacob sat by the
open window, smoked a cigarette, and looked down
from his second-floor eminence upon the traffic of
Gower Street. It was very hot, and the passers-by
were seldom interesting. There was one, however,
who attracted his attention, a girl in a white frock, a
young girl of sixteen or seventeen, with her hair
hanging down and tied with a ribbon. She looked
up at his window and smiled, an unmistakable smile.
Jacob grew hot, and dodged hastily back into the
shelter of the curtains. Then he called himself a fool
and leant far out of the window, but the girl had
passed and did not look back. He debated whether
he would not go out into the street, but he knew that
he had not the courage to speak to the girl if he did,
and was not sure, even if she looked back now and
saw him leaning out, whether he would dare to smile
in return. Tony would have waved his hand. The
very next girl who smiled . . . Jacob remained leaning
out of the window, his arms on the sill. But the next
passer-by who smiled up at him was a fat French-
woman with an enormous bustle, and Jacob stared
stonily past her ; he did n't want to encourage a person
of that kind, she might ring the bell and ask for him.
Nevertheless it was something of an excitement, and,
though he maintained his rigid aloofness, Jacob was
sorry when the stout lady had waddled away down
Gower Street. It was undoubtedly a waddle, though
the lady herself was under the delusion that her walk

262 JACOB STAHL

was particularly attractive ; " voluptuous " might
have been her adjective. After this Gower Street be-
came stagnant, there were no more smiles ; no one
more noticeable than the lamplighter passed in ten
minutes.

It was certainly very dull; Jacob wished he had
had the impertinence to smile back at that girl in
the white frock — but suppose he had gone out and
spoken to her, what could he have found to say?
Tony would have been funny, of course, and quite
at his ease. Jacob wondered what sort of a girl she
was, a shop-girl, probably ; she could n't have been
. . . He wondered; after all, he knew very little
about these things.

London was a wonderful place, full of strange ad-
venture at this time of the evening. Jacob remem-
bered how many attractive-looking women he had
seen last night. Oxford Street was quite close, and
there would be many people to look at there; Gower
Street was deserted. But then, if he went to Oxford
Street, he would have to keep walking up and down,
and that made him feel self-conscious. How delight-
ful to have ground-floor rooms in Oxford Street, so
that he could sit and watch the people go by, en-
trenched behind his own window-sill. Delightful!
There would hardly be a dull moment. The idea
grew in his mind, but the fruit of it was poor, ungath-
erable stuff. To watch, always.'' No, he wanted to
play his part in the game, he wanted to live. . . .

Why was he so hesitant.'' There was London
outside his window. There was no one to restrain
him. Why should he not go out and find adventure,
real adventure.'' Why should he not taste life.'' It
was a paralyzing idea. It made his heart throb and
his hands grow cold and damp. It was a tremendous
idea, and the next day was Saturday; he need not

ADVENTURE 263

go to the office ; some of the other assistants took the
morning off occasionally when there was no chance
of Mr. Morley putting in an appearance. This was
certainly a grand opportunity, he had two whole days
ahead of him. He was not quite sure why these two
possibly free days ahead should make any difference,
but they seemed to suggest a deliverance from all
restraint. If he were on the verge of a great adven-
ture, he liked to feel that he was free, if only for two
days, from all bondage of routine.

Why did he still hesitate? Was it his early train-
ing ? No ! The more he thought of Ashby Sutton and
of the principles he had been taught, the more eager
was he to be free. He found the word " provincial-
ism " in his mind, and repeated it. Provincialism !
He was a citizen of London, great, wonderful, free
London ; he was not to be deterred by any consid-
eration of the narrow little ideas that took such firm
root in the unknowing, vegetating, conventional
provinces. There, in Ashby Sutton, they would have
condemned him for his love for Madeline. . . . Was
that the restraint.? Did the memory of Madeline,
of perfection, still hold him.'* He had vowed earnestly
a few weeks ago that there should never be another
woman in his life. Never is a long day. Was he
never to know life.'' Madeline had jilted him. Why
should he have such respect for her memory.'' There
could never be another Madeline, that was obvious,
never another experience to equal that. He thought
of the day by the spring when he just touched her
cheek with his lip for the first time. His apotheosis ;
and it had come to him while he was so young. All
future knowledge of women must be smaller, less
admirable, less wonderful; but there must be further
knowledge for him — oh ! no, the thought of his lost
ecstasy need not restrain him.

264. JACOB STAHL'

Yet something did hold him back, for he had con-
ceived the great idea quite a quarter of an hour ago,
and here he was, still sitting at the window. " Two
things," said Jacob suddenly, aloud, addressing the
desert of Gower Street : " I am a dreamer, who never
does things, and I am nervous. Well, I will go —
I won't dream only, and I won't be nervous."

But as he put on his gloves, and as he took up his
straw hat, and as he went slowly downstairs, it
seemed to him that the nature of the adventure had
undergone a change, it was no longer a free adventure,
he was driving himself into it; it had even the aspect
of a penance. . . .

At the comer of Bedford Square he nearly turned
back, but he thought of Tony the insouciant, Tony
the dare-devil, Tony the inimitable — if one were
not so consumed with shyness — what Tony did he
might do, and Jacob felt wicked, now, he wanted the
adventure.

So he made his way into the busier thoroughfares.
Nine o'clock! There was plenty of time before him.
He thought of the inspiration he had derived from the
Wheatsheaf claret, and wondered if that experiment
might not be repeated. There were plenty of public-
houses about, but he was afraid to enter them. One
could n't go into a place like this, for instance, and
order a bottle of claret. What was it one drank.'*
brandy-and-soda.'* . . .

The elaborately heavy door of the public-house
by which Jacob stood, was swung open and a man
came out, reeling slightly. Jacob caught a glimpse
of a floor covered with saw-dust, of earthenware spit-
toons, of a blue mist of smoke, and of rough men

ADVENTURE 265

standing at a counter or sitting by brown, wooden-
topped tables. He heard a roar of loud voices, the
clank and jingle of pewter and glass. He smelt the
acrid odour of cheap tobacco, an odour that was
drenched with and yet unaltered by the volatile,
heady smell of alcohol.

No ! Obviously that was not the right kind of
public-house. " Public Bar " he read, as the door
swung to again, beyond were the " Private " and
" Saloon " bars, but he had taken a dislike to the
place, and walked on hastily. He passed other houses
of a similar kind, but he was now intent on finding
some place where he could order something to eat
and have a bottle of claret with it. He did not feel
in the least inclined for food, but he knew that this
would be a perfectly correct thing to do. He was
in an unknown world, and he was afraid of violating
the unknown conventions that doubtless ruled it. He
might so easily go into the wrong place and order the
wrong thing, and then people would stare at him.
He hated to be stared at. If only he had Tony's
savoir vivre . . .

A large and imposing-looking hotel attracted his
attention. This, too, advertised its public bars, its
saloon bars and " lounge," which were not what he
sought, but in addition there was a notice as to a
newly-opened grill-room ; " Suppers, 9 — 12.30 " was
displayed prominently in black type, and by the en-
trance to the lounge, a long and elaborate-printed
menu was fixed in a brass frame. But there was
nothing to show which was the grill-room. Jacob
walked the length of the hotel front, and read every
description worked into the coloured glass of the
various doors. He stopped at last by the big en-
trance under the glass-roofed portico which projected
across the pavement. A commissionaire in uniform

266 JACOB STAHL

came out wiping his mouth on his cuff, and Jacob
summoned up courage to ask him the way to the grill-
room. " Through the lounge, second door on the
left," replied the official curtly.

It was in some ways very reminiscent of his ex-
perience at the Wheatsheaf. He was alone; so very
much alone in that big, gaudily-decorated grill-room,
with its endless, empty tables shining with white table-
cloths and electro-plate. The waiter had been hurried
and uncommunicative ; doubtless he had been disturbed
from his own hastily-snatched meal. The only other
occupants of the place were a man and, presumably,
his wife, who had a portmanteau and various smaller
bags with them. They were dressed for travelHng,
and were eating quickly. They, like the vista of this
unoccupied supper-room, were pre-eminently dull and
uninteresting. Jacob sipped his claret and acknowl-
edged that the adventure, so far, was a miserable
failure. But there was the big world of London out-
side. Perhaps when he had imbibed a full measure
of courage from that one-and-ninepenny half-bottle
of St. Julien. . . .

No ; smoking was not permitted until after eleven
o'clock. Perhaps the gentleman might like to take his
coffee and liqueur in the Lounge.'* Jacob remembered
the Lounge; he had passed through it on his way
to the grill-room. There were small round wooden-
topped tables on elaborate iron legs, and big settees
that looked comfortable. Yes, he would take coffee
and Hqueur there. Benedictine! Would the waiter
bring them to him, and his bill? The waiter was well
satisfied with his douceur.

By a quarter to eleven the Lounge was making a
show of being quite the right place for an adventure.
There were several women sitting at various tables,
handsomely dressed women, some of them extremely

ADVENTURE 267

pretty. It is true that they nearly all of them had
cavaliers, usually one cavalier to two ladies, but they
appeared friendly, these women, and not disinclined
to become communicative if offered encouragement.
There was a dark, pretty little person, two or three
tables away, who had smiled at Jacob more than once.
On the strength of the St. Julien and the Benedictine
he had smiled back, but he could n't do more than that
while there was a man with her. He did not want
to become mixed up in a row. If the man went and
left her, he would go up and speak to her, or
perhaps if he went on smiling she might come over
to him? But, presently, the dark young woman
rose and went out with the man she had been talk-
ing to. Nevertheless, she waved her hand to Jacob
as she left; he was making progress. This was
almost an adventure, already. He ordered another
Benedictine. . . .

He was endeavouring to avoid the eyes of a super-
abundant woman sitting opposite. She was alone,
but she was not attractive to Jacob. He was not
sure that she was not the woman who had smiled up
at him when he sat in the window in Gower Street.
She was drinking something out of a tumbler, and on
one occasion when he accidentally caught her eye,
she lifted her glass with an effect of gaiety, and ap-
peared to drink his health. He was stricken with a
nervous fear lest she should come over and speak
to him, and stared so hard at a man in another di-
rection that the man became uneasy, and turned his
chair round to avoid Jacob's gaze. . . .

Two women, unattached, came in, and Jacob
started, for one of them was the Miss Catherine
Mason, to whom he had been introduced at the music-
hall by Tony, and of whom he had dreamed last
night. He had a strange sense of familiarity with

268 JACOB STAHL

her as the result of that dream. In any case here was
someone whom he knew, to whom he had been intro-
duced. He might speak to her. But she did n't see
him, although she actually sat down at the table next
to him. She was apparently in a state of some excite-
ment, talking eagerly in a rather loud voice to the
woman who accompanied her. She had her back to
Jacob, and he could not see her face, but he over-
heard some of her complaints. " Wasting all my
evening," he heard ; " I ought to have known better,
but the best of us make mistakes, sometimes ; " and
then, " I did n't half let him know what / thought of
him . . . not one of them dressed-up little dolls from
offices, either, or I should n't have encouraged him
. . . old fool . . ." An interruption was caused by
the intrusion of a waiter, who seemed to be on 'terms
of easy familiarity with Miss Mason and her com-
panions. " No ! 'e ain't been in since Tuesday," said
the waiter in answer to a whispered question from
Miss Mason, and there followed some interchange of
questions and answers in a lower tone, which Jacob
could not catch. The confabulation was terminated
by Miss Mason. " Oh well ! " she said, " my luck 's
dead out. Bring me the usual, please, George, and
put it on to our account. . I 'm broke to-night."
George started to fulfil the order, and then his eye fell
on Jacob, and he went back to Miss Mason and whis-
pered something to her. When the waiter had gone,
Miss Mason looked round, casually, over her shoulder.
For an instant she paused in doubt, wrinkling her
forehead with a look of perplexity, but seeing the half-
nervous, half-eager smile on Jacob's face, she swung
round and leaned towards him. " I 'm sure we 've met
before somewhere," she said, " but I 've no mem'ry for
faces ; was it . . . ? "

** Last night," said Jacob. " Don't you remember

ADVENTURE «69

at the . . . the music-hall," he had forgotten the
name.

" Why, of course ; how silly ! You were with some-
one ; who was it, now ? "

" With Mr. ..." began Jacob, and hesitated,
remembering Farrell's caution with regard to the
disclosure of Jacob's own name. " With a fellow
named Tony," he substituted. Miss Mason had
called FarreU " Tony," so that must be all right,
he thought.

" To be sure," replied Miss Mason ; " you were
with that young imp Tony Farrell; him and me
had a row, did n't we .'' " She paused, looking very
straightly at Jacob. She remembered the cause of
her quarrel with Tony; also, that she had made it a
subject for self-congratulation. She had had quite
a glow of righteous enthusiasm over her reproval of
Tony, and now . . . ? Well, it was unfortunate that
she should have come across the innocent when she
was so hard up; but that was just her luck — or the
innocent's.

" Let me introduce you to my friend," she said
to Jacob, and then over her shoulder : " Hilda ! this
is a friend of mine, Mr. . . . There ! I 've forgotten
your name, again."

" Stahl ! " prompted Jacob, who could not have
given any name but His own.

" Pleased to meet you," said the lady introduced
as Hilda, as she came up and shook hands.

Jacob mumbled something, he had not yet learned
a correct answer to this formula, and the little party
settled down comfortably at the table, " Hilda " in
a chair facing Miss Mason and Jacob, who were
seated side by side on the " lounge," which formed a
continuous seat down one side of the room.

An adventure, indeed!

£70 JACOB STAHL'

" Stahl? " questioned Miss Mason. " Sounds a bit
German, does n't it ? "

" Yes ! It is German really, a long way back, you
know," said Jacob, " but I 'm quite English . . .
quite English."

" What 's your first name.? " asked Hilda in a
friendly fashion. She was a blonde young woman
of five or six and twenty, with blue eyes and a rather
vacuous face, the flesh of which lacked all appearance
of elasticity or resilience.

" My first name — oh — er — James," stammered
Jacob.

" Jimmy for short.'' " asked Miss Mason.

" Sometimes," agreed Jacob.

" And where 's that imp of darkness you was with
last night? " continued Miss Mason, to make conver-
sation, but before Jacob could answer, the waiter ad-
dressed as George came up with a tray.

"Any orders, sir?" he asked, as Jacob made no
acknowledgment of his presence.

" Oh ! I 'm sorry. I say, would you care to have
anything? " asked Jacob, speaking chiefly to Miss
Mason and wondering why the waiter had not
brought the " usual " that he had heard ordered.

" Well, I don't mind," responded Miss Mason.
" What 's yours, dear? "

" I '11 have a kiimmel, thanks," replied Hilda, to
whom the question had been addressed — she pro-
nounced it " kimmel."

" So will I," agreed Miss Mason.

" Anything for you, sir ? " asked the waiter, with
an eye on Jacob, who paused for a moment, and then,
determined to make the leap, said : " Brandy-and-soda,
please."

" Two kimmels and a brandy-and-soda," repeated
George, and disappeared.

ADVENTURE «71

" Poor old George ! " murmured Miss Mason.

" Oh? Why? " asked Jacob, rising readily to the
bait.

" Poor fellow has got a bad foot, and has to go on
working because he 's got a f am'ly to keep ; and they
don't get wages here, you know, only what they make
in tips.**

Jacob was quite interested in the sorrows of Greorge,
and regarded him with a new interest when he brought
the hqueurs and the brandy-and-soda. Jacob would
have liked to have made some friendly reference to
the bad foot or the family, but his courage failed him,
and he was reduced to an attempt to put something
of unusual friendliness into the usual question, soften-
ing its abruptness by the addition of two words.
" How much is it ? " he asked with rather a sprightly
air, as though to imply that he was glad to employ
George, and intended to pay him well for his trouble.

"Two kimmels and a brandy-and-soda. Um! . . ."
George appeared to be making a mental calculation
and to be looking at Miss Mason, as though she could
help him in his arithmetical difficulties. " Three and
eight," was the outcome of his momentary struggle.

Jacob thought that this unknown " kimmel " must
be a very expensive drink, but he gave George two
half-crowns, and nodded in a friendly fashion to con-
vey that no change was required.

" Thank you, sir," replied George with respect, and
then, seeing that Miss Mason had something to say, he
bent over her and received a whispered communication.

" You must excuse me whisperin'," apologized Miss
Mason when George had departed; " I was just askin'
him about his foot. He does n't like it mentioned
before people, as he 's afraid if it gets known, his
boss '11 sack him."

Up to this point Jacob had a very distinct and

272 JACOB STAHL

vivid memory of all the events of the evening, but
after the advent of the brandy-and-soda his impres-
sions became blurred. Some incidents stand out
clearly but inconsequently, the order in which they
occurred cannot be remembered.

There was a point when he remembers that Miss
Mason was regarding him with very close attention,
and that there was some look in her eyes which led
him to the confession that he had dreamed of her the
night before. He remembers that when he told her
this, she drew herself up with that striking gesture
of hers, and said he was a " nice boy," and that it
" did seem a shame." Also, there remained a picture
of Hilda taking leave of him, as she had a " friend "
somewhere whom she was anxious to see, and of his
squeezing her hand very long and affectionately, and
being told that she was not Kitty, the point of which
remark he apprehended with astonishing clearness,
and replied to with great boldness by telling Miss
Mason she need n't be jealous.

After that his impression is one of a growing affec-
tion for Miss Mason, of being alone in a hansom cab
with her, and of a sense of being uplifted, together
with Miss Mason, to a higher plane of being ; a plane
on which the feeling called nervousness had entirely
disappeared, and from which he could regard the foot-
passengers seen from the cab with a sense of pity
for their obvious inferiority. He was, of course, an
altogether superior being, but he was sorry for them,
sorry for their infirmities, mental and physical, poor,
nervous, hesitating things stumbling along on foot,
while he was being borne with extraordinary swiftness
over enchanted roads in company with Miss Mason.
He called her Kitty now, and kissed her several times
in the cab. He was a very superior being with a
really wonderful mind. . . .

CHAPTER XXI

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY
1.

In the life of the body, two years represent a definite
period, measurable in retrospect by certain incidents
and experiences, by an account, whether of change or
monotony, which can be spoken of as the history of
the individual. In the life of the mind, two years of
existence may represent a generation of growth, or
may be negligible, representing no change either pro-
gressive or retrogressive. Some minds are mature at
twenty-five, and thereafter merely harden in the mould
into which they have been cast.

In the history of Jacob Stahl the two years of his
fellowship with Tony Farrell represent a time of
plasticity. The old mould was being broken up,
piece by piece, but as yet there are few indications of
any new form to supersede the stereotype.

The influence of Farrell may seem to have been
altogether bad ; certainly it did not encourage a desire
for steady application in the study of architecture,
nor did it conduce to any noticeable purity of moral
standards, although Farrell was no thorough-going
hedonist. He did not live for pleasure and for that
alone, moreover he had a nice sense of public-school
honour which steadied him over many dangerous
places. But even if the determinable influence for
good be neglected, the other influence which so soon
opened up an experience of a hidden world for Jacob
must not be too soon written off as unequivocally bad.

274 JACOB STAHL

It was necessary that certain writings should be made
on the blank pages of Jacob's mind, and it was better
for him that those writings should be ill-made than
that the pages should have remained unsoiled. There
was some failing in the quality of Jacob's imagination,
by which failing he fell short of anything approach-
ing genius. His mind was uncreative outside his per-
sonal experience, and it was better for him that he
should find that experience in life, and not in the
untrue representations of the novels of the period.
Better for him, too, that he should found his personal
ethics on reaJities, than make a profession of half-
realized beliefs with no reason behind them other than
the uncertain traditions which he had read of, or
heard stated as infallible, — though, indeed, any de-
velopment of a recognizable ethic is still far to seek.
This does not imply that the particular steps by
which he arrived at knowledge are those which it is
advisable to follow. Jacob was fortunate in many
ways where others might fall into pitfalls dangerous
enough to mean disqualification for the real business
of life. Moreover, it is essential to realize that
Jacob's mind represents an unusual type in that, with
all its plasticity, it still had some remarkable quali-
ties of resilience. The stamp which marked it so
clearly for a time, became gradually altered, the mark
remained, perhaps, but it took a new shape, individual
and representative.

The influence which might have seized as an ad-
mirable qualification to that of Farrell was, unhap-
pily, httle in evidence during these two years. This
was largely Jacob's own fault. He shrank from visit-
ing Eric, and it was not until after a brief visit to
Ashby Sutton for the August Bank Holiday, that
he decided to pay his first call in West Hampstead.
He knew that in his brother's house he would be " out

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 275

of it " ; to use his own phrase. The atmosphere of
that house would be the atmosphere of certain knowl-
edge. Eric and his wife were learned in so many
subjects, all essential if one would take a place
among the successful. And Eric was a success,
would be, probably, a great success; and he, Jacob,
was going to be a failure. He saw the prospect of it
already. He did not work, he seemed incapable of
work sometimes. Even in architecture he was not
doing as well as he should. He had not passed that
examination for the Institute, he had not yet com-
pleted the preliminary drawings ; the drawings he
had begun so long ago, before he knew Madeline.
Before he knew Madeline! The thought came home
to him. How long ago was that.'' Looking back,
he saw himself as another individual. He had
been a fool. Nevertheless, if it were all to do over
again, would he take a different course.'* The an-
swer came readily enough; with regard to Madeline
— NO, he did not regret that, it was, at least, ex-
perience. He dwelt on that word; experience, yes,
that was what he needed, he had been so cloistered
and sheltered, he knew nothing of life. But he
ought to have worked more. By Jove, he would
work more ! It was not too late to begin !

It is possible that the visit to West Hampstead
might have been deferred still longer, had not the
post brought him one morning a letter from Eric.
Jacob had returned two days before from Ashby
Sutton, to enter upon his new partnership with Far-
rell, in the rooms they had discovered in Great
Ormond Street. The freshness of the association
was still unimpaired ; they were polite to each other,
interested in each other's affairs, anxious to please
and to prove that the association was going to be
an ideal one, a proposition which had already been

276 JACOB STAHL

stated in so many different forms that it was as-
sumed to be almost a certainty.

The letter had been forwarded from his old ad-
dress in Gower Street, — certain stamps having been
left with his former landlady for that purpose, —
and it contained a cheque for sixteen shillings and
ninepence.

" Money pouring in, eh? " asked Farrell, as he
saw the cheque.

" Simply pouring in," replied Jacob, " sixteen and
ninepence this morning."

"What's it all for?" asked Farrell. Uncon-
sciously he had adopted a slight air of patronage
towards his fellow-lodger. The question represented
an attitude of friendly encouragement, not one of
curiosity.

" I reviewed two books for the Daily Post about
three months ago," said Jacob, " and this is the
magnificent result."

" Did you, though? " Farrell was interested. " I
did n't know you were a literary Johnnie."

" I 'm not," returned Jacob promptly. " Of
course I should like to be. I 've always had an in-
clination that way. Only . . ."

" Why not go in for it ? There 's a pot of money
in that game, if you strike lucky."

"Y — es? I suppose there is." It was not the
money that appealed to Jacob in this connection, so
much as the eclat. If he could be a success, he
would be able to assert himself, even before Eric ;
and, perhaps, Madeline would be sorry that she had
jilted him. Yes, and he wanted fame, he would like
to be somebody. " I 'd give anything to be able to
write," were the spoken words that gave expression
to his thought.

" You seem to have made a start anyway," com-

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 277

merited Farrell. " Must be pretty good to write
reviews. Where are they? I 've never seen 'em."

" More have I, in print," said Jacob. " I must
find out when they appeared." And he gave Far-
rell an account of how the books had been obtained,
and his relations with Eric.

" Did n't even know you had a brother," said
Farrell. " I should cultivate his society a bit more
if I were you, and get some more books."

" By Jove, yes, I must," determined Jacob, and
added : " I say, come with me on Sunday and see
him."

" Sunday.'' All right," agreed Farrell.

It needed but this little stimulus to set Jacob
dreaming again on the possibilities of literature,
and he piled a wonderful castle on his foundationless
imaginings. He pictured always the end, not the
means, and in his mind wrote many reviews of his
own novels. It was almost painful to come down
from these pictured heights of success to the realiza-
tion that he had not, as yet, even conceived the first
idea of a story, and at odd moments he struggled
with the practical, and attempted to plan a novel.
It was always a novel which was to bring him fame,
he recoiled from the thought of the application neces-
sary if he would write anything but fiction ; he be-
lieved that no study was required for the latter form
of literary effort.

The visit to West Hampstead was not a success.
Tony had believed that he could make himself at
home in any society, but he had discovered himself
mistaken. He had asked Jacob what they talked
about chiefly at his brother's house, and the answer

278 JACOB STAHL

had been definite: "Oh! books!" Still Tony had
not been dispirited. He had a bowing acquaintance
with a few of the classics, and knew the names of
many others to whom he had not, as yet, been in-
troduced his intimate friends in this world were the
works of Kingsley, Charles Reade, and Mark Twain.
With this list he had always been able to " keep his
end up," as he expressed it, among those suburban
ladies of culture with whom he had come in contact ;
he had had many " literary conversations," and he
had always found that one skimmed lightly from title
to title, the impression conveyed was the chief thing.
So Tony had had no qualms, and at tea-time had
lightly engaged Mrs. Eric Stahl on the subject of
books, while Jacob talked to his brother. It was,
Tony confessed, a terrifying experience. Mrs. Eric
was a pedant who had mixed with schoolmen, and
never learned the art of talking down. She never
made any assumption of knowledge unless she were
sure of her ground, and had no shame in her confes-
sions of ignorance. It was certainly a new experi-
ence for Tony, who gHmpsed, — for the first time,
perhaps, — the depths of his own ignorance.

" That sister-in-law of yours is a holy terror," he
said to Jacob on the way home. " Phew ! I began
to wonder if I knew the proper way to spell ' cat '
before she 'd done with me. I say, Jimmy, my boy,
that 's the place for you to go to, if you want to
improve your mind and become a literary Johnnie.
It 's a bit too high for me, I have n't got the brain."

Jacob was depressed. Conversation with Eric al-
ways took the heart out of him. He may have had
a moment's pride in the thought that even the won-
derful Tony had had to confess defeat at the hands
of the infallible Eric and his wife, but the pleasure
was very fleeting. Tony had no literary ambitions,

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 279

whereas Jacob had been planning a career in the
world of letters for the past three days, and had
seen this visit as a practical step — he had lingered
lovingly over the adj ective — towards a beginning.
He had met with nothing but discouragement.

Eric in liis neat, finished manner had definitely put an
end to the prospect of any further reviewing work.

" I have no further connection with the Daily
Postf^' he had said. " I have very little time, now,
and the only reviewing I do, myself, is on technical
subjects. I am afraid I can't help you there."

" Was n't that review I did all right? " Jacob had
asked.

" Yes, oh ! yes, it was sufficient, but it is not diffi-
cult to find plenty of men capable of that kind of
work. . . ." This had been the note, and when
Jacob had hesitatingly formulated his ambition to
write, Eric, without directly discouraging him, had
dwelt on the essentials of style, the difficulty of for-
mulating a characteristic mode of expression, and
the study required before one should attempt any
essay in the difficult art. Novels? That in Eric's
opinion was a complicated and exceedingly difficult
medium. The best models were undoubtedly French ;
Flaubert, for instance ; no intending novelist should
attempt to write until he had studied Flaubert.
Other names had come to Eric's tongue, also, Tur-
genev — in translation — for construction, Daudet,
Balzac ... a long list, and Mrs. Eric, whose con-
versation with Tony had faded into an uncomfortable
silence, had cut in with Dostoieffsky and other sug-
gestions, mere English models seemed outside their
recognition. " I will make out a list for you," had
been Eric's conclusion, and he had added : " It is
absolutely essential that you should be able to read
French."

280 JACOB STAHL

It had not occurred to Jacob that it required
study in order to become a novelist; he did not re-
member to have read that it was necessary. In the
novels he knew which dealt with such things, there
was always an undoubted implication that novelists
were born, not made — like poets. Surely the people
who wrote these novels were the best judges, they
must have known how they obtained their own suc-
cesses, and never did he remember any description
of the methods which Eric had advised. But he
would read some of the English classics, Thackeray,
perhaps, and Sir Walter Scott; Dickens he knew
well, but he acknowledged without hesitation that the
model of Dickens was beyond his powers. Besides,
he wanted to write a modem novel. There was that
new writer who had written a book which was a great
success, " Robert Elswood," or something like that.
He would study " Robert Elswood " ; he had begun
it once and found it dull, he would take it up again
and study it. Yes, ic seemed that all these things
needed study, and he knew nothing, simply nothing;
he must begin to work.

" Let 's go and have supper, somewhere," sug-
gested Tony, who knew of " just the right sort of
little place " in which they could get rid of the de-
pressing impression of the afternoon.

Yet even in the lively, cosmopolitan atmosphere
of the little French restaurant, Jacob could not for-
get the necessity for study which had been made so
clear to him, and he returned to the subject when
he and Tony went home to their rooms in Great
Ormond Street.

" It 's all right in a way, you know," he said,
" what those two say. One 's jolly well got to work
if you want to get on."

" If you 're going to write novels, old boy," re-

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 281

plied Tony, " take my tip and study life ; that *s
what you want to know."

" That 's all very well," expostulated Jacob. " I
quite agree with you, but one 's got to know how
to write about life, too. Writing is an art, and you
have to learn the technique." This was a recollec-
tion of Eric.

" All right, old chap, fire away," replied Tony,
" only for the love of heaven don't get like that sister-
in-law of yours. She 's a warning to snakes. I
could n't live with you, if you began to talk of
Dotty-whiffsky, or whatever his name was."

The next day Jacob took out a subscription to
Mudie's, and brought home " Robert Elsmere," for
the purpose of study. As a novel it did n't hold
him. Within limits he understood it, but the char-
acter and intellectual development of Elsmere were
outside Jacob's experience, and he was unable to
appreciate the quality of the argument. Swayed by
the precedents afforded by the highly moral litera-
ture with which he was more familiar, he anticipated
that Elsmere would receive some miraculous illumi-
nation which would restore his faith in the teachings
of the English Church. Of the truth of these doc-
trines, Jacob had no more doubt than he had of the
dates of English history. All the sturdy logic of
the book was lost on him, because his preconceptions
were so strong that he supposed Elsmere was " mis-
guided " — a word he had from Fearon — and would
inevitably discover his mistake in the last chapter.
He skipped freely, and took no intellectual pleasure
in the reading, and when he failed to discover any
account of Robert Elsmere's conversion to the faith
of his fathers, Jacob condemned the book unhesitat-
ingly as " atheistic " ; atheists, Radicals, and crimi-
nals were associated in his mind as similarly mis-

282 JACOB STAHL

guided persons. (Tliree years later he read " Robert
Elsmere " from cover to cover with absorbed
interest.)

During the same week Jacob also went one day to
the offices of the Daily Post in Fleet Street, and ob-
tained a copy of the paper containing his reviews.
Eric had remembered the appearance of the notice,
and had been able to furnish the approximate date.
These interests kept Jacob in the mood for study,
with the objective of literary fame, for several days.
He showed the notice to Tony, who said it was
"jolly good," an opinion which coincided with Jacob's
own judgment. He had been surprised to find how
much he had appeared to know of the books he had
been criticizing, and how well he had expressed him-
self. It was undoubtedly a beginning, he thought,
and he was very full of ambition and determination
for many days.

It was a curious chance that marked the first de-
cline of his eagerness to win literary success. Tony
took him to the Vienna Cafe one Sunday afternoon,
and Jacob, greatly daring, engaged in a contest with
a professional chess-player for the nominal stake of
a shilling a game. He played and lost five games
at increasing odds, and when he had been finally
beaten at the odds of " rook, pawn, and move," he
was quite willing to acknowledge that he knew noth-
ing of the game of chess as played by a master.

It was Tony who, in an unusually serious mood,
gave point to the experience. " Oh ! you have to
give those Johnnies best," he remarked afterwards,
*' they 're clean beyond our limit. I 've played them
occasionally. You 're so absolutely helpless from the
start, they 're simply all round you before you know
where you are. You and I have n't got the brain
for that sort of thing, old chap. I felt just like

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 283

you did this afternoon, when we went up to your
brother's last Sunday. You can't get on a level
with these clever beggars anyhow, you have n't a
dog's chance."

Jacob took this casual pronouncement to heart,
and pondered it. It killed his confidence for the time.
That book of Mrs. Humphry Ward's, for instance;
it might not be the sort of book he wanted to write
himself, but how much of scholarship and wide knowl-
edge had gone to the making of it. Would mere
reading and study enable him to bridge the enormous
gap which divided him from the writers of such
books? Was there not some difference in the quality
— or quantity — of brains which were capable of
thus expressing themselves.? "You and I haven't
got the brain for that sort of thing, old chap." Was
that true.'* Could he ever attain to the proficiency of
that professional chess-player.? In imagination, yes;
but seriously, now, without any silly dreamings or
pretences? He put the question on one side, unan-
swered, but his devotion to the literary project wa-
vered from that time. It was not pleasant to be faced
with one's own ignorance, an ignorance so appalling
and profound that it appeared hopeless ever to make
up leeway. Jacob liked pleasant things ; drifting
and dreaming were not profitable, perhaps, but he
preferred them to the arduous business of such pro-
longed application as would be necessary if he de-
sired to come within an appreciable distance of the
attainments of Eric, or the writers of such novels as
*' Robert Elsmere." As to the question of poten-
tiality, he shirked the answer without shame.

Thus his futile determinations took another shape,
and he prescribed for himself a course of architec-
tural reading. He decided, also, that his will-power
was weak, and set himself foolish little tasks in order

«84 JACOB STAHL

to strengthen it, such as getting up earlier in the
morning, or walking part of the way to the office.

Those two years of association with Tony in Great
Ormond Street did not pass without various dis-
agreements. When two men are working in the same
office, day by day, it is better that they should not
share the same lodgings, unless they are so perfectly
adapted to each other's society as to be capable of
a great friendship. This was certainly not the case
here. For a few months Tony was a hero, but when
Jacob began to come up, or down, to Tony's level
in certain respects, an inevitable rivalry followed.
The consequences were no less inevitable. Little
bickerings arose. Tony, no longer a hero, became
subject, like other imperfect creatures, to contradic-
tions ; even in his own departments of knowledge.
Tony was selfish, and though he could be magnani-
mous and self-sacrificing during the first days of
partnership, when the gloss of politeness consequent
on new relations had worn off, his selfishness became
apparent. If Jacob had been willing to give way,
the selfishness of Tony might have passed unre-
marked, but Jacob's egotism, though of another type,
exceeded that of his partner. They accused each
other openly of selfishness within three months of
their first association, and quarrelled violently, nurs-
ing resentment against each other for two whole days.
When the breach was healed, the friendship had taken
a new shape; there was no further place for blind
admiration on Jacob's side, nor for condescension on
Tony's. Moreover, from the date of this quarrel
the balance of authority began to waver. Jacob had
the better intelligence, and if Tony were still his

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 285

superior in the office, and if Tony's present capacity
as an architectural draughtsman was greater, the
gap was rapidly closing up, and it was soon not a
question of teacher and pupil, but of seniority be-
tween rivals. Outside office matters Jacob was dem-
onstrating greater attainments. He was reading. It
is true that he read through vast masses of utterly
worthless fiction, but, unconsciously, he was learning
to criticize, to discriminate. Impossible as it is to
trace its source, he had a feeling for literary style
which constant reading developed. This feeling is
one that seems to be inborn, and is difficult of ac-
quirement by those who lack the sense originally,
but it is capable of almost limitless development, the
grades are innumerable. By constant reading, even
such heterogeneous reading as he practised, Jacob
was developing his innate taste in the matter of
literature, and was keeping his mind in health by the
exercise of his critical faculties.

Tony, on the other hand, was degenerating. He
had an idle mind which shirked any prolonged effort.
His deductions were made quickly, almost intuitively,
and were never the outcome of analysis. He tended
always towards living in the world of sensation,
whether muscular or nervous. At the age of twenty-
seven he was outliving London with its comparatively
limited opportunities for physical exercise, and as a
natural consequence he was slowly deteriorating phys-
ically and mentally. Thus it was that Jacob by sheer
intellectual force was becoming the predominant in-
fluence, and Tony, conscious of the change in their
relationships and resenting the implication, sought to
emphasize his superiority by excesses which were no
longer commanding his room-fellow's admiration.
For Jacob had another natural endowment — an
ethical sense. Possibly it was allied to that other

«86 JACOB STAHL

sense in literature, another expression of a conscixjus-
ness of a certain fitness or appropriateness in the
proportions of life. At this time that ethical sense
of his was restrained by his acceptance — in theory
— of a tabulated code of morals. As a sense it was
therefore little exercised; as a test of right-doinf^ it
was not required, and was only manifested in two
ways.

The first was by a sense of uneasiness after a lapse
from morality. Little sophistry was required to ex-
cuse himself for indulgence by the code on which he
had been brought up. Repentance excused; more,
repentance when genuine, obliterated the lapse, and
repentance was always genuine at the moment. The
promise of amendment solemnly made to some im-
aginary audience, completed the reform ; he could
start out with a clean slate and sin again, the burden
was not cumulative. But that sense of uneasiness,
the primitive workings of an ethical seed striving to
germinate in a frost-bound soil, was not to be al-
layed by any sophistries of repentance or promised
reform. " Are you to-day what you were yester-
day.'' " was the uncompromising question which could
not be answered, and must therefore be shirked. Yet
each time that it was evaded, the memory of former
repetitions was quickened.

The second way was emotional and valueless, save
inasmuch as it demonstrated that the Httle seed was
bursting, cracking the hard soil as it strove to squeeze
out a pale new growth between the fissures it had
rent. This way was evidenced in strong religious
aspirations. These aspirations were unfulfilled by
any penance of church-going or ritual observances,
although they invariably sought that mode of ex-
pression in the first instance. But they went farther
and induced moods of unselfishness, moods in which

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 287

this undeveloped child sought to embody his theory
of righteousness in small details of practice, little
denials and unnecessary submissions. On the theo-
retical side Jacob toyed with an emotional ritualism,
and appraised the idea of the confessional, seeing in
it a support to those futile determinations of his.

These things are aspects of a phase. Jacob was
suffering experience of mind and body, but he was
uncultured. The garden of his intelligence had been
sown with a handful of haphazard seeds, a wilderness
in which a few pretty flowers fought for existence
among many strange stiff growths, stubborn as an
araucaria, growths that needed to be laid by the
roots, before his plot could become fertile. Mean-
while he, the gardener, hesitated and pottered, now
attempting to trim his araucaria into a pleasing
shape, now assiduously watering a fine crop of weeds,
and again seeking tentatively to cultivate some of
his prettier flowers. While unknown to him, one
vigorous but thwarted seed lay at the root of that
ugly, stubborn, prickly tree which dominated his
garden, a seed which sought to push a tendril
through harsh roots, even though it could find no
better environment to grow in than that afforded by
the sombre shade of those formal leaves which over-
hung its nursery.

Nevertheless there were signs of growth, however
uncontrolled, and the signs were manifested in the
ways described, in the cultivation of a taste for liter-
ature, in phases of religious emotionalism, and in
quarrels with Tony Farrell.

Tony objected for one thing to be persistently
beaten at chess. He counted himself a fair chess-
player, brilliant rather than sound, and when he first
met Jacob they were a very good match. But Jacob,
after his experience at the Vienna Cafe, bought a

288 JACOB STAHL

book on the openings and began to develop his powers.
He spent many hours of Mr. Morley's time in that
underground, smoky wilderness of a cafe in the City,
to which Tony had introduced him. He met Ger-
mans there who were vastly his superiors at the game,
and both by playing with them and by watching them
play with each other, he stepped up into a class that
enabled him to give Tony the odds of pawn and move,
though Tony would never accept the odds.

During these two years Jacob saw less and less of
his brother. Eric had fulfilled his promise by sending
the list of books he had recommended as a guide to
the formation of literary style, and Jacob found in
this another reason for not journeying to West
Hampstead; he could not read French, and he did
not wish to parade his ignorance. The French lan-
guage was one of the subjects he had marked out for
study, but, unfortunately, it was, also, one of the
subjects which did not get beyond the initial stage,
and, as a consequence, the next visit to West Hamp-
stead suffered a parallel postponement.

Again Eric was demonstrating more and more his
capability of becoming a success. He had written a
distinctive criticism of the new Socialism of the
'eighties, a criticism which had been well received.
Jacob's first intimation of this achievement was a
half-column notice of the book in the Daily Post,
and it roused in him less pride for the family triumph,
than resentment at the criticism on his own futility.
He wrote and congratulated Eric, and took consid-
erable pains over his letter. He tried to make it a
clever letter, and was pleased with the result, but in
Eric's reply there was no commendation of Jacob's
cleverness, and Jacob wondered whether his letter
had not, after all, been rather silly. Eric had given
him a general invitation to West Hampstead which

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 289

met with no response. If the invitation had been for
a particular time or occasion, Jacob might have put
his pride in his pocket and accepted it, but he de-
cided that those vague terms, " Why do you never
come and see us? We are always in on Sunday
afternoons," conveyed no cordial interest in his wel-
fare. He did not want to visit West Hampstead
until he had " done something."

4.

Further evidence of growth is afforded by the grad-
ual change of Jacob's relations to Aunt Hester. Un-
happily, this change, though it marks the progress in
self-reliance, marks, also, the increase of a small ego-
tism which cannot be regarded as admirable. But in
this, as in all human relations, there are two points of
view, and the mean between them does not necessarily
represent a just estimate. Indeed, no one is capable
of making any approximation to a just estimate in
judging human relations, for everyone is biassed
either by their own necessarily imperfect experience,
or by what is worse, — their own little adopted stand-
ard of morality. Nor can these judgments be re-
ferred to any majority test, for we have not yet ar-
rived at any agreement as to a universal code. Mur-
der which appears, probably, as the greatest crime
is excused in many relations, and even regarded with
admiration. For, putting aside the more obvious
application of war, we may see a whole community
lusting for the blood of an escaped criminal who has
been guilty of a murder, judged as horrible by the
self-constituted jury of his fellow-countrymen. The
community is outraged at a crime which threatens its
own safety and thirsts for revenge, and every one of
its members becomes for the time a potential mur-

290 JACOB STAHL

derer. It is self-protection; and this affords suffi-
cient excuse for the community, but not for the in-
dividual in all cases. The tramp who robs a house
to save himself from starvation becomes an outlaw by
the act, and if he has entered the house burglariously
may be shot at sight by the owner of that house, but
if the threatened tramp gets his blow in first, he is a
murderer, because he represents an individual minor-
ity of one, against the many of the community ; but,
ethically, the murder of the individual may be as jus-
tifiable as the judicially approved murder carried out
by the many. So, in judging the small detail of
human relationships, we are swayed unconsciously by
a similar test. We put ourselves always in the posi-
tion of the murdered, the misdemeanour is weighed by
the test of our personal safety as a member of the
community, and selfishness is condemned by our code,
because it represents the opposition of the one against
the many. This is but a restatement of Nietzsche's
philosophy of " slave-morality," a philosophy which,
if carried into effect, would upset the foundations of
society, and no doubt work incalculable harm; but
the point at issue is that in condemning, we should
remember that it is no fine, moral principle which
actuates us, but respect for an inculcated code which
has its origin in fear for our own safety.

For, in effect, Jacob undoubtedly shortened Hes-
ter's life, though he did it unthinkingly, unknowingly.
He took away from her, her joy in living, her object
in Hfe, and he did it selfishly, which is a crime accord-
ing to our standards. If we put ourselves in Aunt
Hester's position, in the position of the murdered,
the facts seem to rise up in condemnation of Jacob.

The many interests of Hester's life were no longer
sufficient to her. After Jacob had gone to London she
found her loneliness almost insupportable. So great

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 291

was her loss that the habits of half a lifetime, her In-
terests in the village, her preference for country life,
were all outweighed by her desire to be with Jacob,
even though it necessitated the circumstance of Lon-
don. That letter of Jacob's, in which he suggested
for the first time that he might be sharing rooms
with some new friend whose acquaintance he had made
in the office, was a desperate blow. It is little wonder
that in her bitterness she wrote the complaint that
Jacob had no further room in his affections for an old
woman who had once been all in all to him, a letter
which did justice to the intensity of her own affection
but little to her common-sense.

Then, almost before she had realized it, the thing
was done. When he came to Ashby Sutton on the
Saturday before the August Bank Holiday, Jacob
had been full of his proposed partnership with Tony
Farrell. As Hester listened to the praises of this
unknown and, to her, quite unsympathetic individual,
she realized the full extent of the tragedy which had
overtaken her. Nothing she could do or say would
win Jacob back to her; she had been jilted just as
surely as Jacob had been j ilted by Madeline, but with
a difference. For Hester there was no prospect of
consolation. At times in a fit of revolt she almost
decided to cut herself off from Jacob entirely, to cease
writing to him, to cease asking him to come and visit
her. He was her nephew, no more, she argued with
herself, there was no tie to bind them. Why should
she lose all her interest in life because her brother's
child was ungrateful.? Even on that August Sunday
afternoon, Jacob had absented himself. He had gone
for a solitary walk after hinting, gently, perhaps, but
quite plainly, that he wanted to be alone. Hester
knew where he went. Madeline was not there, but he
must needs indulge a sentimental mood by wandering

292 JACOB STAHL

over to the Elmover stile. " He thinks more of the
girl who threw him over than he does of me, and I
gave him the power to walk," thought Hester bitterly,
and, watching him from her window, she noted with
something like pride in her own achievement, how little
there was, now, to show that Jacob had ever spent
those early years on his back. She went back in mem-
ory over the scenes in which she had been such an im-
portant participator; the first feeble efforts to raise
his leg without swinging it; the gradual improve-
ments ; and then she figured to herself the grotesque
misshapen figure which had essayed to hobble across
the cottage floor with the help of two sticks. And,
now, though he carried a stick, he barely leaned on it ;
a certain lack of spring and muscular vigour in his
legs, an occasional hesitancy in walking, an inclination
to bend forward slightly from the hips, these things
were all that differentiated him from the ordinary
man, a convalescent recovered after a long illness,
one might have said — oh ! yes, almost fully recov-
ered. " My work," Hester was inclined to boast,
" and he throws me over for some friend of a few
weeks' acquaintanceship." It must be admitted that
Hester was bitter.

But when Jacob had returned to town, the bitter-
ness died away. If she had retained it, she might
have fought back her way to a renewed zest in life.
" I am an old fool," she admitted to herself, " but it 's
no use trying to help it. He is all I have, I can't seem
to want another interest now." Admitting this, she
had recourse to keeping the interest alive. She wrote
often and uncomplainingly, but she begged for a full
account of Jacob's doings and his manner of life, and
was disappointed when the weekly letter contained
little but a few feeble epigrams, composed sometimes
in the office on a Monday morning when the previous

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 293

Sunday — the day for writing — had been too much
occupied to allow of the toil of composing a letter.
" Not all fun," had been Hester's mild complaint on
one such occasion, and Jacob, who had been rather
proud of a letter which he had thought would be
amusing, wrote petulantly in reply that his life was
a monotonous routine, containing no incidents worthy
of record. The truth is that the weekly letter was
become a toil, and he frequently brought himself to
the task of writing it by an attempt to add a literary
atmosphere to its composition. But to write on a set
subject was impossible to him at this time, and the
result was an impersonal affair which afforded Hester
little satisfaction. She had one consolation, she
found nothing in Jacob's letters which breathed any
suggestion of his being led astray among the pitfalls
of London. The name of Miss Mason did not dis-
figure Jacob's essays.

Sometimes, when he was in a condition of tempo-
rary religious enthusiasm, he wrote at great length,
and at such times Hester wondered whether, after all,
she had ever understood the boy. " What a pity he
did not go into the Church ! " she reflected after one
such effusion, and she allowed her mind to dwell on a
delightful picture — a small country rectory, with
Jacob in charge of the parish, and herself established
as his housekeeper. " If he had only gone into the
Church, things would have been different," she sighed
again. Possibly her pronouncement was a true one.
Possibly !

To have an object in life is everything, whether the
object be a source of pain or pleasure. Robbed of
the interest which had ruled her life for so many
years, Hester began to age rapidly. She did not
idle ; she still busied herself with works of charity in
the village, she maintained her devotion for the affairs

S94 JACOB STAHL

of the Church, she kept her cottage spotless as ever,
but she went about her duties more wearily, and her
broad, solid figure was not quite as erect as of old.
She became absent-minded for the first time in her life,
and found her memory was failing in little things.
" I 'm getting an old woman," was her constant
thought, though she was still some three or four years
short of sixty; the burden of the thought pressed
upon her and affected her physically, so that she did,
indeed, begin to grow old more and more rapidly.

Even Jacob noticed the change. He missed coming
to Ashby Sutton at Whitsuntide, although at Easter
it had been understood that he was to spend his three
days there. Tony had suggested the river, and
Jacob, who had never been on the Thames, found the
temptation too strong. " I can't spend every holiday
at Ashby Sutton," he argued, " and Aunt Hester will
have me for a whole fortnight in August," so two days
before the holiday he wrote a long letter explaining
his reasons for not coming, and added : " But, of
course, I will come, if you want me to very particu-
larly." Hester had been bitterly disappointed, but
she wrote as cheerfully as she could, and said she was
sure the river would be a change for him. Her own
words lingered in her mind after she had sent the
letter. She saw that Jacob must be attracted, now,
she could no longer expect him to spend all his holi-
days in so unattractive a place as the small village in
which she lived. She spent her time planning an ex-
pedition for the summer fortnight. She decided that
they would go to the sea.

Jacob assented willingly enough to this proposi-
tion, and they fixed upon Cromer as a compromise
which would not necessitate Hester's crossing London.
Hester was to go a day earlier than Jacob, and find
rooms. It was when Jacob saw her first, waiting to

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 296

meet her on Cromer platform, that he noticed a
change. " You are n't lookmg very well, dear," he
said, after he had greeted her.

" Oh ! I 'm well enough," replied Hester. " You
forget that I 'm getting an old woman."

" Oh, nonsense ! " protested Jacob ; " you 're not
really old."

It was not a convincing answer ; it availed nothing
to counter that perpetual suggestion which was being
made so constantly in Hester's own mind. It seemed
that all she did, now, was done to the accompaniment
of that one refrain.

Even Jacob's company during that fortnight at
Cromer did not serve to revive her waning interest in
life. He was inclined to find fault with her. He did
not understand her lapses of memory, which were new
to him, and he was occasionally fretful in consequence.
Above all, he no longer looked to her for advice or
assistance. It was Jacob, now, who planned their
walks and excursions. He was independent, and
proud of his independence. Moreover, during the
last two or three days of the holiday she saw com-
paratively little of him. He had made the acquaint-
ance of some young woman on the sea-front. It was a
harmless flirtation enough, and ended with the holi-
day, but it was a source of preoccupation for him at
the time, and as he wished to keep the knowledge of it
from Aunt Hester — in this he was quite successful
— he appeared to be neglecting her deliberately.

Hester made little remonstrance. On one or two
occasions her old spirit flared up for a few minutes,
and once she spoke bitterly of his loss of affection.
Jacob's reply was very unsatisfactory.

" I don't see how you can say that," he protested,
looking rather sulky, " seeing that I might have gone
up the river this summer with Farrell and Leigh-

296 JACOB STAHL

Weston. They asked me to go, and I refused because
I was coming here with you."

** Did you think it was your duty .'' " asked Hester.

" Oh ! of course not," replied Jacob. " It 's ab-
surd to talk like that."

Useless, quite useless. Hester saw that, and gave
way, almost, apologizing for her brief outburst. He
was independent of her, now. She might have kept
him if she had not set him on his legs, she thought,
and there were times when it was almost in her heart
to regret that she had been so thorough in her cure
of him. She rebelled against the injustice of life at
such moments. Why should she suffer, now, for hav-
ing attempted so much ; for having succeeded.? If she
had not given all her energies to making Jacob a man
fit for life, she would not be suffering her present
loneliness. Then she prayed to be forgiven for her
ungrateful spirit, and found consolation in the
thought that she was getting old and had not very
long to live. In truth her hold on life was weakening
with every new experience. . . .

It was just a year after this holiday that Hester
finally relaxed her hold, and Jacob was not with her
when she died.

That summer the temptation of a trip to Oxford
with Farrell and Leigh- Weston proved too strong;
but he compromised by promising to cut the trip short
by four days, which were to be spent with Hester.
He and his two companions were camping out, and
had no address till they reached Oxford, where Jacob
found two telegrams from Fearon, summoning him
to Ashby Sutton. The first was a week old and im-
perative enough, the second told him that he was too
late. There was no letter. His first feeling was one
of resentment. He had an illogical desire to find fault
with someone — Fearon, perhaps; but in the train

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 297

his mood changed. He ought to have gone to Ashby
Sutton first, but how could he know, how could he
possibly know ? He could n't know ! No, that was
plain enough, but still some relentless voice accused
him of selfishness, and he wanted to make reparation,
now that none was possible.

" Well, it was some kind of an apoplectic seizure,"
explained Fearon. Jacob was staying at the rec-
tory. He arrived on the afternoon of the funeral,
two hours after the ceremony was over, and now he
was sitting in the study where he had spent so many
hours in the days of Fearon's tuition. Subconsciously
he was aware of his old tutor's change of attitude
towards himself. He was no longer at school, he was
treated as an equal. Fearon was growing old, too,
he noticed.

" She had been a little queer in her head for some
days past," went on the rector. " Her memory
played her tricks, you know ; she 'd come up to see
me about parish affairs or what not, and forget what
she 'd come about. Then a week last Sunday, which
must have been the day after you started on your
river trip, Mrs. Hales found her wandering about the
village in the afternoon, not knowing where she was.
Mrs. Hales helped her home and sent for me, and I
sent for Doctor Brown, but she never recovered con-
sciousness. Some little bloodvessel in the brain gave
way, so Brown says."

" She did n't know, then, that I was not there ? "
asked Jacob.

" She never spoke an intelligible word after she was
found by Mrs. Hales," said Fearon. " I think you
may make your mind quite easy on that score. I 'm
sorry I could not have found you, but your aunt had
told me of your river excursion, and I knew you 'd
never call anywhere for letters."

298 JACOB STAHL

" No ! It would n't have been any good," said
Jacob, and thought that here was another omission
for which he was to blame.

He pondered many omissions that night in the rec-
tory's best bedroom; certainly he had been selfish,
and he was sorry, very sorry. He regretted those
last days at Cromer the previous summer, and the
shortness of his letters, but above all, he regretted
that he had gone to Oxford. Yet if he had not gone .''
If he had actually been with Aunt Hester, what good
would it have done? Before he had realized that she
was ill, he would have been just as usual to her, and
after it would have been too late. Fate had not been
kind to him. He wa^ angry with fate for not giving
him an opportunity.

In the novels he had read, dying people always re-
covered consciousness " just before the end," and
spoke a few words to the best-beloved. But Fearon
had told him that Aunt Hester did not recover con-
sciousness at all, so it was no use picturing his timely
arrival to assure her of his undying love.

He wondered why he was not heart-broken. If
Aunt Hester had died two years ago, he would have
been beside himself with grief. Now he had learned
to live without her, and when he went back to London
the only diiference in his life would be that he would
not be obliged to write a letter once a week, and would
be able to spend his holidays how and M^here he
pleased. Here in Ashby Sutton he missed her, of
course — missed her badly. He wanted to tell her
about his adventures on the river. There was no one,
now, in whom he could confide, he was absolutely alone
in the world. . . .

In his regrets Jacob was, unknowingly perhaps,
more selfish than he had been during Hester's life.

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 299

6.

Jacob spent four days In Ashby Sutton, four dull,
useless days. He went over to Pelsworthy and called
on Mr. Baker. Unhappily Bennetts was away on his
summer holiday. Jacob was sorry ; he wanted to see
Bennetts, and surprise him with details of Mr. Mor-
ley's office, possibly with a vague hint or two of the
glamour of London life. Mr. Baker condoled with
him on his loss, and was sufficiently impressed, later,
to hear of the magnitude of some of Mr. Morley's
jobs. " We 've made three hundred and seventy-three
sheets of drawings so far, for the North- Western Hos-
pital," was one of Jacob's fireworks, and Mr. Baker
responded handsomely. " God bless me ! " he said.
" Ha ! ha ! Three — hundred — and seventy — three
drawings for one job, eh.? Wonderful! WonderfuH
That makes some of us country fellows sing small, eh ?
Dear, dear."

Afterwards there was Aunt Hester's solicitor to be
seen, and — vaguely — arrangements to be made.
The solicitor, however, was quite willing to take over
all arrangements. Miss Stahl's annuity ceased with
her death, of course, he explained, but there were cer-
tain savings, amounting to some two or three hundred
pounds, and the furniture of the cottage, all of which
came to Mr. Stahl under his aunt's will. There was
nothing in the cottage he wished to keep, Jacob told
the lawyer, nothing; would the lawyer make all the
arrangements for the sale.''

Later it came over him that the " certain savings "
referred to had been accumulated for his benefit, and
he reproached himself again for being an ungrateful
brute. He had not been to the cottage, and he did
not mean to go. What was the use? Why should he
make himself unhappy by a sentimental revival of old

300 JACOB STAHL

associations? He had not even been to the Elmover
stile, he wanted to forget these things and go back to
London. Fearon was going to preach a " funeral
sermon " on Sunday, he would make some excuse and
go back on Saturday; he had to be at the office on
Monday.

He had talked very little to Fearon on local mat-
ters, and it was not till Friday night, — he had finally
decided to go next day, despite a warm invitation to
stay over Sunday for the sake of the funeral sermon
— that quite by accident the conversation turned on
the affairs of Elmover. It was over two years since
he had seen Madeline, and some time since he had
heard of her. She had swum out of Aunt Hester's
ken into the waters of that great social world in Lon-
don, and Aunt Hester did not read the Morning Post.

Fearon had startling news. " You 've heard, no
doubt, that Miss Felmersdale is to be married soon.^* "
he said, and looked at Jacob over the top of his spec-
tacles, to see whether there was any tenderness left in
him on that subject.

For the moment Jacob was more concerned with his
attitude towards the rector than anything. How
much did Fearon know ? he wondered. " Anyone
down here ? " he asked, casually, rather proud of his
self-control.

" Dear, no ! " replied Fearon. *' Miss Felmers-
dale 's to become quite a grand lady, she 's engaged
to Lord Paignton."

"Lord Paignton?" repeated Jacob. "I suppose
one ought to know the name, but I don't remember it
in any connection."

" I 'm afraid I can't help you much," said Fearon.
" He 's an Earl, of course, so Miss Madeline will be
a Countess, and I believe he 's well off."

Fearon's information went no further than this.

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 301

He had heard the news in the village, doubtless it had
been announced in the paper, but he had not seen it.
He saw very little of the Felmersdales, nowadays, he
continued. Nina had been in London, too, this sum-
mer, and Sir Anthony and his wife shut themselves up
and saw no one. Lady Felmersdale did not even send
flowers for the altar vases, now ; they hardly counted
as Church-people. Fearon seemed a little bitter.

Jacob wondered whether Lady Felmersdale was
" worse," but he did not put his thought into words.
He did not know whether Fearon had any suspicions
on that subject. . . .

The rooms in Great Ormond Street seemed very
empty and gloomy when Jacob arrived on Saturday
night. Tony would not be back till the next evening,
or, possibly, he might go straight to the office on
Monday morning.

The rooms had an atmosphere which was unfa-
miliar. This may have been due to the fact that the
competent landlady had taken advantage of her
lodgers' absence, and given them what she called " a
good turn-out." There was a fairly steady, oblong
table in the middle of the room, and this had not been
clear since the last holiday. In the ordinary course,
at least one-half of it was covered with a litter of
books, papers, and magazines, piled generally on the
top of a drawing-board, together with such details
as pipes, an ink-bottle, a T-square, a roll of drawing-
paper, odd parts of mathematical instruments. . . .
When one was working and a meal happened, half the
table was cleared — a rapid process — and treasures
accumulated at that end were sometimes lost there.
Periodically, Tony undertook a clearance, but he sel-
dom worked down as far as the drawing-board. Now
even that lowest of strata was removed and standing
against the wall, and the dingy red and black table-

S02 JACOB STAHL

cloth had been brushed and shaken. Jacob noted the
ink-stains which marked Tony's attempts to clear;
the ink-bottle which generally lay concealed some-
where in that piled-up confusion, always came out
upside down.

" You 'd like some supper, I suppose .f* " said Mrs.
Foster, the competent landlady.

" Oh ! if it 's not too much trouble," replied Jacob.
He had never succeeded in making a friend of Mrs.
Foster, though he had made overtures at first. Mrs.
Foster, with all her long experience, had never learned
suppleness. She was not dependent entirely on her
lodgers, as she had a small tobacconist's and news-
agent's shop on the ground-floor. She did not quite
approve of the habits of either Mr. Farrell or Mr.
Stahl; still, she allowed them to stay, since they be-
haved themselves fairly decently at home. Also they
paid her thirty-five shillings a week for the rooms,
and prices in Great Ormond Street were going
down.

" No trouble," replied Mrs. Foster curtly, " what 'd
you like.'* "

" Some tea and an egg, I think," said Jacob ; he had
no ideas on the subject of food.

The egg was not satisfactory, it had a flavour of
straw, and the yolk was adherent to the shell on one
side, a peculiarity of London eggs which seems to
suggest that they have been lying down too long.
Jacob drank three cups of tea, and tried to make
good with bread and butter and jam. He had been
smoking too much in the train, and had a general
feeling of dirt and staleness. He had not got rid of
the stuffy smell of the railway carriage. He thought
that when he had had something to eat, he might be
able to enjoy a cigarette again.

He did not feel incHned to go out, and the feeling

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 303

of staleness was developing into a headache which
pressed on his temples and hurt his eyes.

Life seemed very worthless to Jacob at this mo-
ment. What was there to look forward to except the
routine of office work.'' Who cared what became of
him.'' Certainly not Eric, who had been too much
occupied to attend Aunt Hester's funeral, though he
had done the correct thing by sending an expensive
wreath. Jacob had not thought of that. He never
did the correct thing, he made a mess of everything,
he was making a mess of his life. What was the good
of making determinations to work.'* He never kept
them. And if he did achieve any little success, now,
there was no one who cared. What could he do to find
interest in life again.'' No prospect immediately pos-
sible to him offered any allurement. He might go
abroad for six months on the strength of that legacy
of Aunt Hester's, but he knew nothing of hotel life.
He would be hopelessly lost and out of it, wandering
alone about foreign cities. Or he might go and live
in the country, but then what was there to do there?
He had no object or purpose in life, and there was
none he could think of, which made any appeal to him,
just then. He wished Tony were back, they might
exchange notes of their river experience.

He went to bed at half-past nine and soon fell
asleep, but the next day found the despondent mood
still heavy upon him. He had lunch at the Vienna
Cafe, played chess all the afternoon, and lost four
shillings and his temper. He was wasting all his
time, playing the fool and idling, he reflected. Well,
in a way, it was of no consequence, of course, he
had £120 a year ; but something, perhaps that burst-
ing seed, reproached him. He wished he could do
something, but the effort needed seemed too great.
The very thought of it made him feel sick. If Aunt

304 JACOB STAHL

Hester had lived, things would have been different,
she always encouraged him, she believed in him.
Yes, he wanted Aunt Hester back. Now, for the
first time since she had died, he wanted her badly.
He could have cried if he had let himself go. . . .

Life was a failure and not worth living. His
imagination was asleep, and refused to lift him out
of this dull, dreary world.

When he returned to his rooms at half-past eight,
he found Tony feasting on bacon and eggs.

" Hal-lo! " said Jacob, genuinely pleased to find
a companion again.

" Hal-Zo, my son ! " replied Tony genially.
" How goes it? "

They had not been on such terms of real amity
for quite a long time. Even up the river they had
quarrelled on more than one occasion.

Tony had news, but he kept it till he had finished
his supper, plying Jacob meanwhile with questions
as to his doings — and sufferings — since his de-
parture from Oxford.

Jacob did not expand. He gave the details
briefly, and Tony expressed his sympathy with a
comprehending nod and an assumption of appro-
priate gloom.

" More like losing a mother than anything ! " he
put in on one occasion. " Rough luck, old chap."

When they had escaped from the subject, however,
Tony brightened again and dropped his bombshell.

" I 'm chucking Morley's, my son."

"What.?" said Jacob. "Why.? When.? What
are you going to do.? "

" Going to Canada next month."

" Are you rotting.? " asked Jacob.

" Rather not. It 's practically all fixed up. I
met a chap in Oxford I was at school with. We were

THE END OF HESTER AND TONY 805

pals — rather. Joey Frazer? I expect you 've
heard me mention him? He 's got a bally great
farm over there, and is making a pot of money.
He 's just over on a holiday, and he 's been looking
for someone to go back with him who 'd put in good
work on his farm. Finds it a bit lonely, I fancy,
from what I could make out. Well, I wrote straight
off to the guv'nor and gave him all the parties, and
he is willing to start me with a couple of hundred
quid. Jolly good sort, the guv'nor. I 'm going
to see Morley to-morrow, and sling the office at
once, if he '11 let me off, and then I 'm going home
for a day or two, and afterwards I shall come back
and get my outfit. Joey '11 be in town then and
show me the ropes,"

" Great Scott ! " commented Jacob, and then,
" How much longer shall you want to keep on these
rooms? "

"Oh! till I go. We're sailing on the 9th of
September, three weeks on Tuesday."

" Great Scott ! " repeated Jacob. " Wish I were
coming with you."

It is possible that if Tony had taken up the sug-
gestion, Jacob would, indeed, have gone to Canada.
He had realizable capital, and the suggestion that
he should employ it on the resources of the Canadian
farm would doubtless not have been disagreeable to
Mr. Frazer. But Tony did not want Jacob. Jacob
was something of a handicap, he meant restraint in
many small ways, and Tony wanted to be free of all
restraint, so he answered,

" Poor old chap, I 'm afraid you would n't be able
to stand roughing it as we shall have to do. All
day in the saddle sometimes and that kind of thing.
Besides, it means jolly hard manual labour — you
wouldn't be up to that, would you? "

806 JACOB STAHL

" No. I suppose not," said Jacob. He was a
useless person in this world, and no one wanted
him.

6.

He saw Tony off at Euston, but Joey Frazer was
there, very full of bustle and importance, and Jacob
had to play the part of a bystander, for Tony, too,
seemed to be fully occupied.

At the last moment only was there any sign of
the old relations. Tony leant out of the carriage-
window, as the guard was blowing the whistle.

" Good-bye, old chap," he said warmly, reaching
out his hand. " I say, Jimmy, you '11 write, won't
you? "

"Rather! Good-bye."

As Jacob watched the train out, he was puzzling
over his admiration of two years back. Tony was n't
a bad old sort in some ways, but good Lord . . .

BOOK FOUR
OWEN BRADLEY

BOOK FOUR
OWEN BRADLEY

CHAPTER XXn

IliliUMINATION
1.

For more than two years Jacob had worked side by
side with Owen Bradley, and at the end of that time
the two men knew little more of one another's pri-
vate affairs than they did on the morning of their
first meeting. They were on excellent terms, they
had never come within sight of a disagreement ; they
occasionally discussed matters of general interest
during office hours. But outside the office they
never met. It was not that Bradley was unap-
proachable, but he made no advances. He was self-
sufficient, he had his work and his ambitions. He
was the most respected, perhaps the only respected
man in the office. He worked hard, yet he was not
a " mugger," and certainly not a " prig " ; and he
had no more fear of his employer than he had of
the office-boy, whereas to the rest of the staff, includ-
ing even old Eckholt, Mr. Morley was something of
the schoolmaster, a person to be avoided whenever
possible, flattered if necessary, and never, in any
circumstances, contradicted.

Jacob knew vaguely that Bradley worked at home
in the evenings, that he went in for competitions ;

810 JACOB STAHL

but Bradley did not talk of his own doings, and his
answers to questions were short and not illuminat-
ing, wherefore Jacob's knowledge on the subject re-
mained vague. One thing he knew, however, and
knew with certainty, in all technical matters Bradley
was an authority, more reliable than Mr. Morley
himself. If any point arose which needed settling,
one said, as a matter of course, " Oh ! ask Bradder."
In those days steel was only just coming into gen-
eral use in England for floor-construction, and its
use as a skeleton framework for the shell of a build-
ing was still confined to America, but Bradley un-
derstood the intricacies of steel-construction and the
formulae for calculating strains. It was Bradley
who advised the use of rolled steel H stanchions cased
in concrete, in place of the unreliable cast-iron col-
umns originally designed by Mr. Morley for various
purposes, in the building of the great North- Western
Hospital. This advice subsequently brought great
credit to Mr. Morley; for a rival architect, the de-
signer of the big Eastern Hospital, had an ugly
smash during the progress of the works, owing to
an undiscovered " sand-hole " in one of the cast-iron
columns he was using. Mr. Morley seized his op-
portunity,— he was quite justified, — and wrote a
long letter to the Daily Post, in which he pointed out
the defects of cast-iron construction, and inveighed
against its use as old-fashioned; he pointed his re-
marks with a few instances of the steel-construction
adopted throughout the North-Westem Hospital.

Yet no one would have thought of calling " old
Bradder " conceited, and because he made no boast
of his own achievements, his colleagues treated his
cleverness as a matter of course; he was an author-
ity in all technical matters, but he was one of them-
selves, they even forgot to regard him as an Intel-

ILLUMINATION 311

lectual superior. Mr. Morley knew his assistant's
worth, and before the North-Western Hospital had
been in progress eighteen months, he gave him a
substantial advance in salary — but it was, at times,
a little amusing to hear Mr. Morley talking about
the advantages of steel-construction. He had
adopted the suggestion with such enthusiasm that
he had long forgotten the fact that the idea did not
originate from the creative imaginings of his own
brain. Jacob knew the story and smiled to himself
sometimes, when he heard his chief talking to Brad-
ley on this subj ect, but Bradley himself never smiled ;
he, too, appeared to have forgotten that the use of
steel stanchions in covered-ways, boiler-house, and
the dining-room of the Nurses' House, was his own
suggestion.

To Jacob, Bradley figured as the Eric of archi-
tecture. He was so safe, he knew so much and knew
it so well, his store of knowledge, in fact, was so
great that it was inimitable. How could he, Jacob,
ever hope to bridge so wide a gap! So he treated
Bradley with admiration and some respect, though
he chaffed him occasionally on matters outside office
affairs.

The emigration of Tony made a difference, though
it is difficult to say by whom the initiative was taken,
or if either side made any particular advance. Yet
when Tony had gone, a sort of intimacy began to
grow between the two men who had worked for over
two years side by side without knowing each other.
Doubtless Jacob in his new loneliness was very will-
ing to make another friend. There was Leigh-
Weston, it is true, who had been the third partner
in that trip to Oxford, but Leigh-Weston was rather
inclined to live the same life that Tony had lived.
Unconsciously, Jacob wanted a change, new knowl-

31« JACOB STAHL

edge; and there was little, now, that Leigh- Weston
could teach him.

For two years Jacob and Tony had gone out to
lunch together; Bradley had always gone alone. It
seemed natural, now, that Jacob and Bradley should
go together. That lunch-hour made a difference.
The office was not a good place in which to discuss
private affairs ; there was always the fear of inter-
ruption, but a greater deterrent than this was the
atmosphere of technicality which ruled within its
precincts. There was something in the air of the
place which compelled one, intellectually. One could
no more talk to Bradley of personal emotions in the
office than one could discuss one's relations with a
form-master during class.

The first time he went out to lunch with Bradley,
Jacob felt slightly ill-at-ease, he realized that his
companion was a stranger to him. What interests
had they in common outside office matters? Yet it
was a waste of time to " talk office " during that one
brief hour of relaxation. Then there was a change
in Bradley, also, he was a human being after all,
with an outlook on life not completely bounded by
building materials and the complexities of their
representation.

The slight stiffness consequent on new relations
did not wear off until lunch was finished, and then
Jacob fell on, what was to him, an astounding reve-
lation of Bradley's capacity. Some mention of Brad-
ley's home-work made Jacob curious, and he pressed
his questions home as he had never had the desire
to press them in the office.

" You seem to be always working on competi-
tions," said Jacob in reply to a remark of Brad-
ley's. " How many have you been in for? "

" A good many," answered Bradley with a smile.

ILLUMINATION 313

*' How many? " went on Jacob. " I think this is
awfully interesting. Do you mind telling me.'' "

" No ! why should I ? Though I would sooner
you did n't say anything about it in the oflSce."

" Rather not. Of course I won't, if you 'd sooner
I did n't. I should like to know about these things.
I 've thought of going in for a com. myself."

" The one I 'm on, now, is the twenty-ninth," re-
marked Bradley simply.

This amazing announcement took Jacob's breath
away. He knew what the work of making a com-
plete set of competition drawings for any big job
implied — the knowledge required, the difficulties of
planning and designing, the grasp of detail neces-
sary to fit every requirement into the general scheme,
above all the days and weeks of close attention in
making an accurate set of geometrical drawings.
Twenty-nine times had Bradley been through that
mind-shattering experience, and Jacob had idly
** thought of going in for a competition " himself.
He gasped — audibly.

"Twenty-nine! All by yourself?"

" In five of them I collaborated with some other man,
but it was n't a success. I prefer to work alone."

" And you 've never won a single one? " asked
Jacob, still on the high note of amazement.

" No ! I have been placed several times ; second
or third premium, you know. It helps towards
expenses."

Expenses? Yes, the expenses must have been quite
an item. The conditions usually required that all
drawings should be mounted on stretchers, then
there was paper, carriage, goodness knows what
else. Bradley had nothing but his salary. Jacob
knew that, from what Bennetts had told him in the
old days at Pelsworthy.

314 JACOB STAHL

" But, I say, do you think it 's worth while ? "
The question was inevitable. To Jacob, the mere
thought of the energy expended on such uncertain
results made the task seem not " worth while."

" How else can one start in practice ? " asked
Bradley.

" N — ^no. I don't know. But are you really
going on till you win a competition.? "

" Of course."

Amazing creature ! If his energies had been prop-
erly directed, he might, perhaps, have been another
Pitt, the younger ; with such capacities for appli-
cation and for the assimilation and retention of ac-
curate knowledge, no ambition need have been too
high for him. But he had set his mind on success
in this one particular direction, and had never stayed
to consider whether his forces might be better
applied.

"Good Lord!" ejaculated Jacob. "It hardly
seems worth while ! "

" Oh ! it is," went on Bradley calmly, amused at
his companion's excess of amazement, " one learns
a good deal ; much that 's very useful in office work,
and when I do win a competition, all the experience
I 've had will be so much to the good."

" I say, could n't I help you a bit on the one
you 're doing now.'' Help to ink in, or something.''
It must be such an awful grind? " Jacob's sympa-
thies were aroused, the offer was purely altruistic.

" It 's very good of you. Later you might ink
in some of the plans, they 're not ready yet. These
drawings have n't to go in for nearly three months."

" I should like to help, awfully, — if I could,"
said Jacob.

" I have had to have some help, occasionally, in
that sort of thing, in order to finish in time. I

ILLUMINATION 315

should be very glad to let you have the job, if you
care about it."

" I don't want to be paid, if that 's what you
mean," said Jacob, getting a little red. " Great
Scott, you did n't suppose I was thinking of that,
did you.'' "

"Why not you, as well as anyone else.'*"

" I could n't be bothered to do it, if I were being
paid for it."

Curious that Jacob could make so representative
a statement and not realize its applicability to his
own wasted efforts, to his little determinations to
work for a particular end; curious that he should
have lived for nearly a quarter of a century and
never have come within reasonable distance of appre-
hending the fact that the only work he could do was
the work he did for the love of doing it. But then
he had not yet found the right work; though there
were some sides of an architect's work which ap-
pealed to him, and to which he devoted himself with
zest.

" Why do you want to help, then ? " asked Bradley.

It was a difficult question, and one which Jacob
could not answer. He could not explain that his
offer arose from a genuine, spontaneous wish to re-
lieve the toil of Bradley's long and patient labours,
so he framed a reason that had, at least, some truth
in it.

" Oh ! I don't know. I should like to. I have n't
much to do in the evenings."

" Very good of you. I '11 remember that oflFer
in a week or two's time."

" I shall remind you of it," returned Jacob.

" It 's time we went back," said Bradley, looking
at his watch.

316 JACOB STAHL

2.

Owen Bradley's chief failing was that he had too
little of the artist in him. If you study his eleva-
tions, say, the Corporation Offices in Birchester, or
that great block of the Phelps-Casterton building
in London, you will find that his critics have not
erred. These two designs are fairly representative
of his work, and in them you will find a certain
stateliness, an appreciation of proportions, even
something of the individuality which is so rare in
this connection; but they lack what we speak of in
vague terms as " feeling," there is no emotional
quality in them, nothing of that flamboyance which
gives life to French architecture, for instance, nor,
on the other hand, of that devotional reverence which
inspired English Gothic. His big works were great
achievements, but they were not inspired. It was
this lack of artistic feeling that told against him in
his long struggle to win a competition. He excelled
in his plans, but he failed in his elevations. As a
set-off to this failure, it is worth while to note that
in his designs for big hospitals, where elevations
were of no account, he was too original, his methods
were ahead of his time, and beyond the intelligence
of the assessors. Even now some technical critics
look askance at the plans of his big infectious
hospitals.

The same lack shows in the character of the man.
He had a quick brain, he was comprehensive and
thorough, he had imagination and originality, but
all his capacities were of that quality which we as-
sociate with the gifts of the scientist rather than
with the gifts of the artist. If he had genius it
was mathematical, not emotional.

When Jacob made that spontaneous offer to help

ILLUMINATION 317

in the completion of those endless competition draw-
ings, Bradley considered the spirit of the offer, and
found it matter for surprise that there should be
no motive in it except good-will to himself. He did
not impute, or try to impute, any smaller motive
of personal gain to Jacob, but he decided that it
was possibly a superficial and slightly emotional
friendliness, and tested its genuineness by avoiding
any further mention of his home-work, in order to
see whether the offer would be renewed.

It was renewed about a fortnight later. Jacob
had been waiting till such time as he thought Brad-
ley would be needing his assistance, and then broached
the subject, boldly, at lunch. Bradley made a mental
note that there was more in Stahl than he had given
him credit for, and accepted the offer with gratitude.

During those evenings, in which Jacob was em-
ployed in the purely mechanical work of inking in
plans and sections (he realized that he was not clever
enough to be trusted with the elevations), putting
an amount of care and finish into his work such as
he had never put into anything he had done for Mr.
Baker or Mr. Morley, while Bradley's quick, clever
pencil or pen was flying over the paper with the
mathematical certainty that marked his complete
comprehension of the task upon which he was em-
ployed — the two men found time for many a dis-
cussion on subjects unrelated to the work in hand,
discussions which would have seemed out of place in
the office. It was during those evenings that Jacob
began a new phase of his education.

Bradley might be the Eric of architecture, but in
literature, though he had read much, and had under-
stood and remembered what was best worth retaining,
he was, frankly, an amateur. And as an amateur
who loved literature for its own sake, not for any

318 JACOB STAHL

ulterior purpose, he was able to teach Jacob more in
a single evening than he could have learnt in a month
from the academic Eric, whose very axioms stated
assumptions which were beyond the limits of Jacob's
comprehension. Bradley's knowledge as he displayed
some fraction of it to Jacob was not academic. Brad-
ley did not quote authors and assume that his hearer
had read them as a matter of course. He did not
compare authorities, nor discuss the bearing of the
evidence on some subtle, but quite negligible, render-
ing of the classics. His learning was transmuted in
the passage from eye to tongue ; it entered his brain
as precisely as learning entered the brain of Eric, but
it emerged in a different form, assimilated and applied
to a philosophy of life. Eric's learning came out of
him as it went in — his uses were mainly those of the
encyclopa3dia.

Yet these snatches of conversation, interesting and
suggestive as they were to Jacob, were necessarily dis-
jointed and imperfect. Some detail requiring calcu-
lation would, perhaps, absorb Bradley's attention,
and then the discussion, however interesting, was
broken off. It was not till the drawings were de-
spatched, and Bradley was taking what he called his
usual holiday — a few days' respite from evening and
Sunday work — that the great discussion took place
which altered Jacob's outlook on life.

3.

It was a dull, tepid Saturday afternoon in early
December, and the competition drawings had been
gone for over a week. In the interim Jacob had seen
nothing of Bradley except during office hours, for
that energetic worker had been taking his physical
constitution in hand, and had spent most of his spare

ILLUMINATION S19

time in taking long walks through South London,
preparatory to beginning work on another big com-
petition, the particulars of which he had already
obtained.

"Anything particular to do this afternoon?"
asked Bradley casually as Jacob was putting away his
drawing instruments and covering over his board,
preparatory to leaving for the day. The time was
half-past one. On Saturdays the office closed nomi-
nally at two, but Jacob counted the odd half-hour as
lunch-time, a chronology he had learnt from Tony.

" No ! Nothing particular. Why .'' " replied Ja-
cob, with a touch of eagerness.

" Care to come back with me? This is the last day
of my holiday. I 'm starting on the new competition
to-morrow."

" Thanks. Yes, I should like to very much," said
Jacob, and added : " Are you really starting on an-
other competition? Aren't you going to wait till
you hear the result of the one you 've just finished? "

"Why should I?" asked Bradley, with a slight
shrug of his shoulders. " Even if I won it, which I
don't anticipate, I should be glad of the other job,
too."

" Oh, you 're a marvel," said Jacob.

Old Eckholt, who was standing in front of the fire
and passing the time till two o'clock, took the oppor-
tunity to join in the conversation.

" Mr. Bradley 's one of the hopeful sort," he said
in his rather high, whining voice. " I used to go in
for competitions when I was his age."

" Why did you give it up? " asked Jacob, with a
hint of aggressiveness in his voice.

" Because I found out it was no good," replied
Eckholt with a sneer. " The assessors are n't sup-
posed to know the names of the competitors, but, of

8«0 JACOB STAHL

course, they do. They know the style of all the big
men who go in, and know their drawings just as well
as if the name was written across them."

" And you think they 're influenced by that.'' " put
in Bradley.

" Why, of course they must be," whined Eckholt.
" Does n't it stand to reason that they want to give
the job to a man the committee can trust to carry it
out. The assessors want to please the committee."

" Beastly unfair," commented Jacob.

" It is n't quite the fact, though," said Bradley.
" I admit that where it 's a case of ceteris paribus, an
assessor, if he guesses that the drawings of one man
are those of an architect of experience and the draw-
ings of the other are unknown to him, will be influ-
enced in the direction of safety, and I don't blame
him either. But the facts are against your theory,
Mr. Eckholt. Did n't Morley win, in an open field,
the first hospital competition he went in for? His
style could n't have been known to those particular
assessors, such as Tiltman, for instance."

" Oh ! there 's lots of ways of getting round the
conditions," suggested Eckholt libellously.

" Well, then," said Bradley, " what about Grover.?
He won a competition."

" He did n't get the job, though," replied Eckholt.

" That 's outside the argument. He won the first
premium."

" Oh ! it 'appens sometimes by a fluke," returned
old Eckholt, " but it 's a waste of time going in for
'em, in my opinion."

" How many did you go in for ? " asked Jacob
rather rudely. He was incensed by the old man's
pessimism; he had quite made up his mind that
Bradley was going to win.

" I 'm sure I can't remember, now," answered Eck-

ILLUMINATION 821

holt, " but I 've known a good many young men who
went in, in this orfice, and none of 'em ever won any-
thing except Mr. Grover, and he did n't get the job."

" Shut up and come on," interposed Bradley, fear-
ing that Jacob was preparing to demonstrate that
none of the young men Mr. Eckholt had ever known,
nor Mr. Eckholt himself, was to be compared for one
moment with Owen Bradley.

" The old fool riles me," expostulated Jacob when
he and Bradley were outside ; " he 's always grousing
and saying nothing 's any good."

" Well ! You won't change his attitude by talking
or losing your temper. It 's a waste of time to argue
with him," replied Bradley. " Shall we go for a
breather after lunch — before we go back to my
digs.?"

The " breather " took the form of a ride on the
top of a 'bus to Hyde Park Corner, and a walk across
the Park in the face of the blustering south-west wind.
They loitered for some time by the Serpentine, and
then made their way towards Bradley's humble lodg-
ings in Stockwell by 'bus and horse-tram, arriving
only just in time for a composite meal, chiefly tea, at
half-past five.

4.

The heir of the ages ! When the poetic fire glows
and the imagination grows fervid with ecstasy what
splendid names we find for him. It was for this that
the nebula threw out arms in its gyrations, that the
arms condensed as they dispersed from the glowing
parent centre, condensed and split and united again,
and formed centres and tiny systems of their own
as they went heeling round that vast central nucleus.
It was for this that one, apparently negligible, frag-
ment settled down into a steady path, and threw off,

322 JACOB STAHL

or held by its attraction, one still more negligible
congregation of cooling atoms. For this that the
fragment, recognizable as the third important frag-
ment counting outwards from the centre, cooled
through countless millions of years till the great cloud
of vapour which enveloped it fell as rain; for this
all the experiments with a million shapes that have
perished. Out of Heaven knows how many million
nebulae that have condensed in the unimaginable his-
tory of the universe, one nebula was chosen in which
lay the material for a fragment that should in time
produce the heir of the ages. Nature's last work, the
creature with splendid purpose in his eyes, the Bush-
man in Australia, or Socrates in Athens, or two archi-
tect's assistants discussing their origin in a little
back-room in Stockwell by the light of an oil-lamp.

Either of those two, or any other individual living
at the present moment, represents the last develop-
ment of the miracle which grew out of glowing
vapour. The very atoms of Jacob Stahl's body once
formed a part of that vast spinning mass of white-
hot gas, which extended from what we now call the
sun to far beyond the limits of the great orbit of
Uranus. The energy with which Jacob Stahl softly
blows out a cloud of smoke, or with which he attempts
to follow by an effort of imagination the pronounce-
ments of Owen Bradley, is merely a transformation
of some infinitely small fraction of the energy of that
original furnace.

On this wonderful night in the stuffy little back-
room in Stockwell the miracle of miracles dawned upon
Jacob, in all its magnificence. Up to this time he
had thought in terms of man. Here was a world, so
he imagined, carefully designed by a man of colossal
proportions, much as Jacob himself in a very small
way designed a house or a hospital. It was a world

ILLUMINATION 323

the arrangement of which one did not criticize, since
it was taken for granted that the colossus thoroughly
understood the creation of worlds, even though this
one — incidentally designed to accommodate Jacob
Stahl — was his only experiment. Among the items
also specially designed for Jacob Stahl's benefit, were
so-called stars, the majority of them so far away that
he could not see them without the artificial aid of a
telescope. At times, it is true, his attention had been
called to certain remarkable instances of forethought,
such as the fact that since we could not live without
air and water these elements had been supplied with
a generous hand. But on the whole one had taken the
arrangements for granted, perhaps one remembered
that certain things were beyond one's comprehension,
and one was " not intended " to question them.

Bradley had been talking vaguely of astronomy,
not in terms of the laws of Kepler, but reflectively, a
halting monologue of wonder at the well-kept secrets
of the heavens.

Jacob listened attentively, and encouraged him to
further speculation by questions, but Bradley was
drawing nearer home — he spoke of the cooling frag-
ment and wandered into geology. Then man's first
appearance on the earth occupied him. When was it,
Early Miocene — say, 3,000,000 years ago — that
the tailless beast of the forest began to walk without
dropping his knuckles to the ground.''

" I say, old chap," said Jacob, knocking out his
pipe, " where do you get all this from.? "

" Books," replied Bradley vaguely, not in the mood
to give chapter and verse as he was capable of doing.

" But, I say," protested Jacob, " you don't believe
in all that business about our being descended from
monkeys.? That chap, what 's his name? is an athe-
ist, is n't he? "

SM JACOB STAHL

" Darwin ? " asked Bradley.

" Yes, Darwin, that 's it. Do you believe in his
theory.? "

" It 's at least a theory that seems to fit th£ facts,"
returned Bradley, " which is more than the special
creation theory does."

" But that is n't a theory," protested Jacob.

" What, then.? " asked Bradley.

" It 's — it 's a revelation."

" Have you ever examined the evidence ? "

" N — no, why should 1? "

" It is very poor as evidence."

Then followed a long pause. Jacob was smoking
another pipe and gazing into the fire. Bradley was
wondering if Tennyson was right about leaving one's
sister when she prays.

" Bradley ! "

"Yes.?"

" Don't you believe in God ? "

" Not the God of the Christians, anyway," replied
Bradley, without having resolved his doubts as to
Tennyson's advice.

What an astounding revelation ! It was not Hales,
the Ashby Sutton cobbler, who made the grave state-
ment, not some ignorant, arrogant fool setting him-
self up against the wisdom of Peter Fearon and Aunt
Hester, but Owen Bradley, the cleverest man in the
office and the hardest worker, the man who never stole
time from his employer or preached to his colleagues,
Bradley by whose side he had worked for two years,
and who was not in the least like Jacob's conception
of an " atheist."

For a moment he hung on the verge, and then a
question presented itself. " Suppose that all the
things he had been taught about the origin of his
own insignificant self were no more true than those

ILLUMINATION 325

other things which he had demonstrated to be
false?"

You picture him later on the top of the 'bus which
was to deposit him at Cosmo Place, gazing down into
the rush of life that swirled through Piccadilly on a
Saturday night. He is wrapped in a garment of
wonder, his eyes seeing humanity in a new light. He
is striving with little knowledge to relate himself to
the nebula, and to comprehend the reason for all
these other atoms, who are so intent on their own
futile business that they have no time to spare for this
intensely absorbing problem of their origin.

" It 's a disgrace, ain't it ? " remarked the 'bus-
driver over his shoulder, with a large movement of
his whip in the direction of the brilliant crowd.

" Do you believe in Darwin ? " asked Jacob.

" This 'ere hidea of the monkey business," com-
mented the 'bus-driver. " Well — that 's another
point, that is. Question whether a self-respectin'
monkey 'd be'ave as bad as some o' them fly-by-nights,
in my opinion."

The 'bus-driver was not great on religion, but he
was a family man with daughters of his own.

Jacob was wondering whether the 'bus-driver had
been specially designed and created by Providence to
fill his particular niche in the world's economy, or
whether he were merely an incidental outcome of the
cooling process. Neither theory afforded the satis-
faction of a completely reasonable explanation.

5.

Probably Mr. Mudie's assistants, like bank-clerks,
are much too busy to make use of the wonderful mate-
rial at their command. Yet some of those subscribers'
cards, on which are entered so carefully every book

8«6 JACOB STAHL

borrowed, must furnish material for a complete life of
the mind, just as the entries in the banker's ledgers
would give us an insight into the material affairs and
adventures of the depositors.

The collection of cards endorsed " Stahl — J. L.,"
for instance, beginning as a one-book subscription,
would supply an interesting case for the dilettante
psychologist. The earlier entries record the names
of well-known authors: Lever, Smollett, one of old
Samuel Richardson's, — " Pamela," of course — it
was returned in three days. Following these books,
which give a hint of a slightly pornographic ten-
dency, comes " Robert Elsmere " — kept for three
weeks. This is succeeded by "Silas Marner," "Vanity
Fair," " The Mill on the Floss," and then a perfect
revel of George Eliot, Wilkie Collins, and Charles
Reade — nearly every work of the last named ap-
pears on the list. No work of Dickens appears,
which is misleading, for Dickens had been read pretty
thoroughly before the list opens ; and only one more
work of Thackeray's, " The Newcomes." Anthony
Trollope is sampled with an unfortunate specimen,
" Is he Popin j oy .'' " and dropped ; but Thomas Hardy
is appreciated, as we can see from the fact that after
his current work has been read, Stahl — J. L. goes
back to all the earlier works by the same author.
So the list goes on recording an account of novels.
We can trace roughly some little improvement in
taste, but there is hardly a sign of any general read-
ing. Even Essays are refused. Stevenson leaps into
the list for the first time with " The Treasure Island,"
which was returned in one day (was it read in the
office?), but " Travels with a Donkey," the next on
the list, seems to have ended his popularity. Per-
haps the subscriber may have asked the librarian
whether " Virginibus Puerisque " was a story, and,

ILLUMINATION 327

receiving an unfavourable reply, decided to drop
Stevenson. The work which follows is by G. Man-
ville Fenn — it may mark a reaction in favour of
adventure.

Then one December, when the subscription is
rather more than two years old, there comes an
extraordinary change. In the first place, the sub-
scription is increased from one book to three, which
seems to imply that Stahl — J. L. has begun to read
more eagerly. But the great difference lies in the
subject of the books. Novels appear rarely; in
place of them we find, heading the new list, " The
Origin of Species " and " The Descent of Man,"
and these are followed by a catalogue that cannot
be detailed. Works on biology, natural history,
astronomy, geology, physics, even on anatomy, ap-
pear one after the other; indeed, for twelve months
the sciences seem to hold complete sway over the
reader ; then comes a trickle of philosophy, — we
note translations of Plato's dialogues, — some poe-
try, essays, biography, and a little history, chiefly
of the type of Winwood Reade's " Martyrdom of
Man."

The dilettante psychologist may lay the cards on
one side — it is evident, now, that Stahl — J. L. is
learning to read.

6.

In the attempt to ascertain his exact relation to
the nebula, Jacob made many curious discoveries.
Chief among them that we are what yesterday we
were ; to-morrow we shall not be less. He did not
find the theory stated in the neat phrase of Fitz-
gerald, he formulated it for himself; it was by way
of being a general deduction. This discovery finally

328 JACOB STAHL

robbed him of the hope that he might become
" famous, or clever, or rich " by a miracle. Thus he
found himself confronted with the hard necessity of
making his own life, if he desired any of the three
imagined rewards. The first he put away from him.
His reading had discovered to him that the fame he
desired was beyond his attainment. " If I had known
ten years ago what I know, now," he reflectedl,
" I might have had a chance. It 's too late to begin.
I have n't developed the powers of attention, concen-
tration, and memory that are necessary." He decided
not to worry about fame ; and — a decision which
marks the growth of his faculties — he made no
foolish determination that he would devote himself
to the development of those powers aforementioned.
As to riches, admittedly he desired them, but as there
appeared no channel by which they might flow in his
direction, he put this desire, also, in the background.
There remains the third reward ; " Cleverness," as
he phrased it, avoiding more grandiose synonyms.
Speaking generally, he decided that the term or its
alternatives was not only relative but diverse.
Herbert Spencer was clever, also Mr. Ridout Morley,
but their powers and attainments had nothing in com-
mon. In the same way Eric was clever, also his
younger brother Jacob ; but while Eric was precise
and encyclopaedic, Jacob was inexact, and his mem-
ory would not retain the items of a bibliography. On
the other hand, Eric was rigid and academic ; Jacob
was an idealist and a dreamer, hence assimilative and
constructive. Furthermore, Jacob was learning to
think for himself — and Eric. . . .

Thinking of Eric one Sunday morning after he had
just finished Spencer's " First Principles," Jacob
decided to risk another visit to West Hampstead.
It was more than twelve months since he had seen or

ILLUMINATION 329

heard from his brother. " He does n't care a hang
about me nor I about him," meditated Jacob, ** but
I may as well go and look him up again. Perhaps
he may find me better worth talking to now, than he
would have six months ago."

He found Eric and his wife unaltered. He was
greeted with exactly the same shade of warmth, and
remonstrated with, mildly, for having neglected them
so long. During tea-time he confined himself to ask-
ing questions, and discovered that Eric had written
another book, and that Mrs. Stahl was translating
Schelling's " Natur-Philosophie." In the train Jacob
had formulated the idea of airing some of his own
knowledge, but as he entered the atmosphere of his
brother's house, he became depressed and uncertain of
himself. The conversation during tea lowered his
spirits still further. He was overcome with the feeling
that Spencer was elementary, and would be put on
one side at once by Eric and his wife, and yet he was
conscious of a flaw in all their learning, while he
was unable to put a finger on it.

After tea Jacob was invited to the study ** for a
smoke." He accepted gratefully — Eric was bad
enough, but Mrs. Eric was worse. And the two
together! They backed one another up, you under-
stand.

The study might have been dignified by the name
of library. Jacob looked at the walls of books with
a new eye; the last time he had been in that room,
he had hardly troubled to read the titles. Eric noted
the change.

" I have added a good many volumes since you were
here," he remarked, *' and I 've arranged them in
better order."

" You 've got a good many, now, by Jove," said
Jacob.

328 JACOB STAHL

robbed him of the hope that he might become
" famous, or clever, or rich " by a miracle. Thus he
found himself confronted with the hard necessity of
making his own life, if he desired any of the three
imagined rewards. The first he put away from him.
His reading had discovered to him that the fame he
desired was beyond his attainment. " If I had known
ten years ago what I know, now," he reflected!,
" I might have had a chance. It 's too late to begin.
I have n't developed the powers of attention, concen-
tration, and memory that are necessary." He decided
not to worry about fame ; and — a decision which
marks the growth of his faculties — he made no
foohsh determination that he would devote himself
to the development of those powers aforementioned.
As to riches, admittedly he desired them, but as there
appeared no channel by which they might flow in his
direction, he put this desire, also, in the background.
There remains the third reward ; " Cleverness," as
he phrased it, avoiding more grandiose synonyms.
Speaking generally, he decided that the term or its
alternatives was not only relative but diverse.
Herbert Spencer was clever, also Mr. Ridout Morley,
but their powers and attainments had nothing in com-
mon. In the same way Eric was clever, also his
younger brother Jacob ; but while Eric was precise
and encyclopjedic, Jacob was inexact, and his mem-
ory would not retain the items of a bibliography. On
the other hand, Eric was rigid and academic ; Jacob
was an idealist and a dreamer, hence assimilative and
constructive. Furthermore, Jacob was learning to
think for himself — and Eric. . . .

Thinking of Eric one Sunday morning after he had
just finished Spencer's " First Principles," Jacob
decided to risk another visit to West Hampstead.
It was more than twelve months since he had seen or

ILLUMINATION S29

heard from his brother. " He does n't care a hang
about me nor I about him," meditated Jacob, " but
I may as well go and look him up again. Perhaps
he may find me better worth talking to now, than he
would have six months ago."

He found Eric and his wife unaltered. He was
greeted with exactly the same shade of warmth, and
remonstrated with, mildly, for having neglected them
so long. During tea-time he confined himself to ask-
ing questions, and discovered that Eric had written
another book, and that Mrs. Stahl was translating
Schelling's " Natur-Philosophie." In the train Jacob
had formulated the idea of airing some of his own
knowledge, but as he entered the atmosphere of his
brother's house, he became depressed and uncertain of
himself. The conversation during tea lowered his
spirits still further. He was overcome with the feeling
that Spencer was elementary, and would be put on
one side at once by Eric and his wife, and yet he was
conscious of a flaw in all their learning, while he
was unable to put a finger on it.

After tea Jacob was invited to the study " for a
smoke." He accepted gratefully — Eric was bad
enough, but Mrs. Eric was worse. And the two
together! They backed one another up, you under-
stand.

The study might have been dignified by the name
of library. Jacob looked at the walls of books with
a new eye; the last time he had been in that room,
he had hardly troubled to read the titles. Eric noted
the change.

" I have added a good many volumes since you were
here," he remarked, *' and I 've arranged them in
better order."

" You 've got a good many, now, by Jove," said
Jacob.

330 JACOB STAHL

" Only about three thousand," returned Eric, " but
there is no rubbish."

Jacob had said the wrong thing, as usual. Why
did he always make a fool of himself before Eric? It
was largely Eric's fault, it must be; Eric spoke to
him as if he were devoid of common intelligence.

Jacob meant to assert himself. " What 's the prin-
ciple of your arrangement? " he asked, trying to re-
member how the books were arranged at Mudie's.
He had a dim idea that they were alphabetical, under
authors.

"In subjects, of course," replied Eric. He had
gone over to the mantelpiece, and was lighting a pipe
— he only smoked on the rare occasions when he was
not working and expected to be bored.

" Oh ! I see ! " Jacob was not encouraged — Eric
had turned his back, and evidently did not consider it
worth while to exhibit his library for the benefit of
this unintelligent brother. Jacob caught the name
of Ricardo. "Are these Italian books?" he asked
at a venture.

Eric looked round. "Eh? Which?" he asked.

" No, those are all economics, why Italian? "

Jacob grew hot and made no reply, looking closer
at the titles of the books before him. This shelf were
all strangers to him. No ! " Adam Smith ! " He
seemed to remember that name in some connection, or
was he thinking of " Adam Bede " ? " The Wealth of
Nations." Of course, that was the book he had begun
to read in Ashby Sutton all those years ago, when
Eric had come down for Easter. . . . He decided
not to risk any comment, and raised his eyes to the
next shelf.

" Sociology," remarked Eric from the mantelpiece.

Jacob felt that he was being watched. He wished
he could think of something to say which would give

ILLUMINATION 331

him an opportunity to air some of his new-found
knowledge. Ha! There was a friend, a recent
friend — Herbert Spencer. Jacob turned to his
brother.

" What 's your opinion of Herbert Spencer.? " he
asked, and added : " I 've been reading a good deal
of him lately."

" I question the soundness of his metaphysic," said
Eric, " on the other side, I am not competent to ex-
press an opinion. I 'm no physicist, and biology is
out of my sphere altogether."

The magnificent pedant — his very limitations were
bound in leather — had thrown down a gage which
an equal might have accepted. Scholar recognizes
scholar in half-a-dozen words. But Jacob, who could
never have become a scholar, did not even realize his
opportunity. Also, he was uncertain of the signifi-
cation of the word " metaphysic," he had only met it
in the plural heretofore. He was in the familiar con-
dition of being abashed, yet he persisted, seeking for
heavy words.

" You 're so technical and so — so abstract," he
said. " I 've found Herbert Spencer has made a big
impression on me. I 've seen life more clearly since
I read him."

There was nothing about life in Eric's bibliograph-
ical mind. Humanity was a thing he measured with
a rule graduated according to his own standards —
his own achievements. He had forced a way to
knowledge by his own effort; those who had failed
could have done the same if they had not wasted time
in futilities. So when he regarded his brother, he
measured him by the Eric standard of ability and
success ; and when he regarded Herbert Spencer he
measured him by the soundness — Eric standard —
of his metaphysic; he took no account of Spencer's

88« JACOB STAHL

far-reaching influence on human thought. Neverthe-
less as host and brother it was necessary on this occa-
sion for Eric to make an effort. He adopted the atti-
tude of mind which a wrangler might adopt towards
the lowest form of a preparatory school. Prepared
for boredom he relighted his pipe.

" In what way have you seen life more clearly ? "
he asked. " By the way, what do you intend by
life, in this connection? "

The obvious reply to the last question was " the
whole bag of tricks," but Jacob fumbled.

" Just life," he stammered, " from . . . from its
first appearance."

" Do you mean that you are converted to the
theory of an inorganic evolution? "

" I suppose it comes to that," replied Jacob, grop-
ing; the problem had not presented itself to him in
this form.

** I don't think you are justified in accepting that
conclusion," said Eric, " it entails a very large as-
sumption, which Spencer has not proved up to the
present time."

Jacob had thought he understood Spencer, he saw,
now, he did not understand him in the proper sense.
Spencer made Jacob see pictures, that was all, and
not necessarily the pictures Spencer intended him to
see. Jacob read, and received a general impression.
*' Oh, Lord," he moaned inwardly, " what is the good
of my attempting to understand? " One thing, how-
ever he meant to have defined, and he put the question
in decent form.

" I say, Eric, tell me one thing. Do you believe
in the special creation theory ? "

Eric shrugged his shoulders. *' The theory Is cer-
tainly not proved," he said. " I have n't devoted par-
ticular attention to the subject since I left Cambridge.

ILLUMINATION &83

Really, I never trouble about it, now ; it has no bear-
ing on my work."

" But do you believe in a God? " persisted
Jacob.

" I have n't the least idea," said Eric. " I never
think about it."

In effect this was the answer of the 'bus-driver.
The main question was shelved as unimportant. Eric
might be classed with all those shifting figures in Pic-
cadilly; he, also, was too intent on his own futile
business to spare time for the problem of his origin.
Jacob sighed.

" Have you relinquished your orthodoxy.? " asked
Eric, condescendingly.

" I 've been wondering about these things," replied
Jacob.

" Believe me, it 's waste of time," said Eric
*' The problem is insoluble in the present state of
our knowledge. How 's the architecture getting
on.? "

" Oh ! all right. I say, I must be going."

" Better stay to supper," suggested Eric. " Hen-
derson is coming in — he 's one of the lecturers at the
School of Economics."

" I don't understand economics," said Jacob, boldly.
*' I must say good-bye to Mrs. Stahl."

" She 's in the drawing-room, I expect." Eric did
not press his invitation.

" Won't you stay to supper.? " asked Mrs. Stahl
when Jacob came to say good-bye. " Professor Hen-
derson is coming."

" Thanks very much, but I don't understand eco-
nomics," replied Jacob.

" Well, you must n't neglect us so long again,"
said Mrs. Stahl. " We are always in on Sunday
afternoons."

384. JACOB STAHL

Damn Eric and his silly economics. Spencer to
Eric meant sociology founded on an unsound meta-
physic; laws and classifications that took no count
of the individual. Eric wanted a definition of " life,"
and well he might — he knew no more of life than the
bindings of his books. Eric might not have time to
consider the problem of his origin, but he was a
narrow bigot, none the less. He did not understand
literature that dealt with the problem of humanity.
In fiction his only regard was for form. For once
Jacob was not downhearted and discouraged; he
could not discuss any problem with Eric, he was
vastly his inferior in the matter of learning. Well,
Jacob had neither the memory nor the acumen of a
schoolman, but he took an interest in life, thank
Heaven for it, and he meant to get some value out of
it. He was only twenty-five, and he intended to ad-
venture into knowledge, practical and theoretical.
Eric? Bah! Eric was dead, he ought to be bound
and put among works of reference.

Eric understood books in terms of literature;
Jacob wanted to understand books in terms of life
— all the rest was a formula, and the formula con-
tained a constant that had never been evaluated.
Jacob was for the evaluation of the constant, he
wanted to understand life. Bother Spencer's meta-
physic! Damn Eric!

CHAPTER XXIII

beadley's translation

1.

During the earlier part of this year Jacob had been
full of eagerness and anxiety, he had been looking
for the result of the great competition upon which he
had worked for Bradley. In the office he had held
his tongue, for he boldly prophesied success whenever
he spoke of the competition, and he did not wish old
Eckholt to hear him. If Bradley should not win —
absit omen — Eckholt would not fail to remind him
of his jubilations. Old Eckholt was bad enough at
the best of times — it was superfluous to give him
opportunities. Bradley smiled tolerantly when Jacob
let himself go in the lunch hour. Bradley had twenty-
eight competitions behind him, and was busy on the
thirtieth; he founded no unusual expectations on the
success of the twenty-ninth.

The result when it appeared was aggravating to
Bradley, if it afforded Jacob some measure of relief
from the pessimisms of old Eckholt. For the third
time in his career Bradley was proxime accessit;
the second premium was £25, a useful addition to his
income, but to be so near and fail again was very
mortifying.

" Perhaps they may carry out your designs after
all," suggested the hopeful Jacob, when the announce-
ment was made. " The first chap may be a rotter
like old Grover."

9S6 JACOB STAHL

" No, the first chap is ," replied Bradley,

naming a well-known architect.

" Men like that always seem to win," put in old
Eckholt.

Jacob was on the point of being exceedingly rude
to his senior, but Bradley interrupted him with : " I 'm
not working to-night. Come home and have a
jaw."

" Rather," consented Jacob.

" All right ! Good. Shut up about the competi-
tion, now. I 'm a bit sick of it."

*' No wonder," sneered Eckholt, who liked to have
the last word.

The " j aw " was an interesting one to Jacob, and
helped to point him on the new road he was travel-
ling. Bradley gave him a list of books to read, and
discussed many problems with him. For some time
past Jacob had been applying the principle of natural
selection to every natural object. He had stood for
an hour in front of Rowland Ward's little shop in
Piccadilly speculating on the tusks of an elephant,
trying to follow in theory the steps by which they
had been developed. These things fascinated him,
and he had no one with whom he could discuss them
but Bradley.

Rather late in the evening he reverted to the subject
of competitions. " How 's your new one getting
on .'' " he asked.

" Not very fast," replied Bradley. " I 'm not
sure whether I shall go on with it."

" You 're not going to chuck going in for them,
are you? " Jacob's tone had a note of alarm. He
worshipped the qualities that make for success in
others. He liked to read of success, even the hum-
blest. Failure to him was the great tragedy.

" Oh no ! This particular one is unusually difficult,

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 837

that 's all. It hardly seems worth while to go on
with it. The site is so awkward."

"What's the job?"

" New offices for the Birchester Corporation."

" Birchester.'' Sounds big. What 's the estimate
for.?"

" Eighty thousand."

" By Jove ! That 's a big thing ! I should stick
to it if I were you."

" I may," said Bradley, and turned the conver-
sation into other channels.

The truth is that Bradley did not wish Jacob to
help him in making the new drawings. This wish was
partly due to a feeling of independence. He did not
care to accept the gift of help, however generously
and unselfishly the gift was offered. Bradley had
never looked to any man for help, and he preferred
to be self-sufficient. If Jacob would have accepted
a fair rate of remuneration for his work, it would have
been a different matter — but Jacob steadfastly re-
fused any suggestion of payment ; the point had been
raised again soon after Christmas, some six weeks
before. This feeling, however, was not all. Bradley
was human enough to have a thought for Jacob also.
He believed that Jacob was wasting his time in the
study of architecture, and now that he saw the
youngster intent on a new study which, if it promised
no immediate reward, would, at least, educate him,
Bradley thought it better that Jacob should spend his
evenings in reading rather than in the mechanical
work of inking in plans and sections.

Thus it came about that Jacob had no hand in the
making of the new drawings. He mentioned the sub-
ject once or twice, but it must be confessed that he
was somewhat easily put off. He was very engrossed
in his reading at this time, and if working on the com-

840 JACOB STAHL

touring Englishman. One accepted the fact at once.
The customs officials, the cab-drivers, the hotel-keeper
treated him not as a tourist, but as a resident — if
asked, they might have guessed him a journalist or
an artist. Jacob — his method marks the contrast
— tried to " get the atmosphere," he tried to feel and
appear French, and failed for sufficient reasons. Yet
after five years in Paris, Jacob might have passed for
a Frenchman. Bradley would have remained Bradley
after fifty years of Paris life.

As a background to Bradley, remains the city of
Paris as she appears in July, overrun with tourists ;
the American element most pronounced not by virtue
of numbers so much as individuality. The travelling
Englishman, his reputation notwithstanding, may
pass unnoticed in France, he has not the self-asser-
tiveness of the American abroad, and the English-
woman is merely insignificant by the side of her
American sister. But Paris, herself, retains her in-
dividuality despite the aliens who hang on her skirts,
and she was more typically French in face of the in-
vasion when Jacob first saw her, than she is now with
her English shops and restaurants.

Jacob recalls chiefly a memory of splendid build-
ings seen from open places, or framed by the avenue
of a prospect; of extraordinarily wide roads, and
architecture that had a quality of originality which
was new to him. He remembers, dimly, many mu-
seums visited in the company of an explanatory Brad-
ley who appeared to know them with a comprehensive
thoroughness ; and he remembers more vividly the
detail of pavement cafes, and the restaurants on the
other side of the river in which they generally dined.
With Tony in Paris, Jacob would have spent much
money, but Bradley was a strong restraining influ-
ence. " There 's no need to throw your money away,

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 341

in order to see Paris," he explained, and made good
his statement. In other ways, too, Tony would have
led Jacob in other paths, and even in present circum-
stances he was tempted to adventure. On one occa-
sion he broached the subject to Bradley. "You do
whatever you like," was the answer. " I don't mind,
only don't ask me to join you." Jacob understood
clearly enough that it would make no difference to
Bradley, but he preferred, nevertheless, to retain his
friend's esteem — and, perhaps, his own.

It was, on the whole, a brilliant and entirely satis-
factory holiday. Yet when Jacob returned to the
office on the Monday morning which marked the be-
ginning of another fifty weeks' daily attention to the
profession of architecture, he felt that he knew
Bradley no better, no more intimately than before.
He found himself reflecting that Bradley was an
" awfully good sort " and " infernally clever," but he
found himself, also, beginning to assign the first boun-
daries of Bradley's limitations. He was not selfish,
exactly, no, nor wrapped up in his own affairs — he
never spoke of them unless interrogated — yet, what
was it ? he was so self-sufficient — one never got any
further.

Jacob was not the true type of hero-wo r shipper ;
he sought a return. He had not realized this in his
relations with Bradley, till after the Paris holiday.

Outwardly the friendship remained unaltered. But
Bradley understood the difference, and was not sorry.
He did not wish to become involved in any intimacy,
it might interfere with his work.

" This will interest you." Bradley handed Jacob a
letter. There was no hint of enthusiasm or excite-

JACOB STAHL

ment in his voice, and as Jacob opened the letter and
saw the printed address, " Municipal Offices, Cross
Street, Birchester," his heart sank — " another fail-
ure," was the thought that leapt to his mind, and he
felt as if the failure were his own. He read on before
speaking ; perhaps, another second premium had been
awarded, — the second premium in this case was
£100.

" * Re the Municipal Offices Competition.

" ' Dear Sir,

" ' We beg to inform you that we have been
advised by our assessors . . . (names given) . . .
of the above competition that your designs have been
approved as the best of those submitted to us, and are,
therefore, awarded the first premium of £250.' "

" By Gad ! " shouted Jacob, forgetful of other
lunchers, " I congratulate you. I am glad." There
was no questioning the genuineness of his enthusiasm.
An old man at the next table, who had sat there every
week-day for over forty years, scowled over his
paper; he disapproved as strongly of this indecent
display of emotion as any member of the Carlton
might have done in other circumstances ; the circum-
stance of the Carlton Reading-room, for instance.

" All right, old chap, keep cool," replied Brad-
ley, continuing his lunch, " you have n't finished

yet."

" Why — surely ..." began Jacob, and fell to
the further perusal of the letter.

" * We must remind you, however, that, according
to the terms of the competition agreed to by you, the
first or any design is not necessarily accepted for the
carrying out of the work, and as your name is un-

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 343

known to us or to our assessors, as that of an archi-
tect in practice in London, we must ask you to furnish
some evidence of your practical qualifications before
publishing our award. . . .' "

" I say, is that usual ? " asked Jacob.
" No ! Birchester," returned Bradley.
" Miserable blighters ! " said Jacob, and continued :

** * It is advisable under the circumstances that you
should meet the Advisory Committee as soon as pos-
sible, in order that they may arrive at a decision in
the matter, and we should be glad if you could make
it convenient to call at these offices on Thursday
afternoon next at 3 o'clock.' "

The document was signed by three members of the
Advisory Committee, notably by George Beane,
Mayor; it was evidently the composition of some
clerk who had served his articles in a lawyer's office.

" Thursday ! That 's to-morrow," commented
Jacob. " You 're going, of course."

" I have acceded to the command."

" And, good Lord, you 've been sitting next to me
since half-past nine, and never given me a hint."

" Don't say anything about it in the office, yet,"
said Bradley. " I have told Morley, of course, but
I asked him to keep it quiet."

Jacob drew a long breath, and gazed through the
person of the forty-year habitue opposite. " Good
Ijord," he said in an awestruck tone, " I say, what
does it feel like, old man? "

"I haven't got the job yet," remarked Bradley
quietly. " Have you finished ? Come on ! "

The habitue, whose scowls had been so ineffectual,
was greatly relieved by their departure. To him, the
success of the young seemed slightly profane.

344. JACOB STAHL

Thursday was a day of penance to Jacob. He had
besought Bradley to send him a telegram as to the
success, or otherwise, of his interview with the com-
mittee. " They probably won't arrive at any deci-
sion till after I 'm gone," said Bradley. " Well, wire
me what you think will happen," urged Jacob, and
Bradley had agreed.

Jacob was false to his trust on that Thursday.
Mr. Morley was very much in the office, and " kept
bobbin' in an' out," as old Eckholt said. Nevertheless
Jacob found great difficulty in keeping his attention
on the full-size details of mouldings he was making
for the mortuary of the North- Western Hospital, and
he was so full of Bradley's mission to Birchester that,
at last, he could keep it to himself no longer. Under
a pledge of secrecy he confided the facts to old
Eckholt.

" He '11 be lucky if he gets the job," said Eckholt.
" They '11 be very chary of giving it to a young man
like Mr. Bradley."

" Oh ! surely not," protested Jacob. " He 's so
jolly clever."

" Cleverness don't go for much," replied the old
man. " They want a man who 's had practical
experience."

" Well, good Lord," said Jacob, impatiently,
" however is anyone going to start in practice at
that rate — it 's like saying that no one must go
into the water until they 've learned to swim."

" It 's a very big job to start with," said Eckholt.

" Whatever is the good of having competitions,
then? " asked Jacob.

" They get all the best ideas," replied Eckholt,
" and then get their own architect to carry them
out."

" That 's a bare-faced swindle," protested Jacob.

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 345

" There 's a lot of humbug about 'em," said the
old man. " I soon found that out."

Jacob was aggravated, he could hardly control his
temper. ^* Pessimistic old fool," he thought to him-
self; aloud he said:

" I '11 lay you ten to one, Bradley gets the job."

" I never bet," replied old Eckholt.

Jacob shrugged his shoulders.

At a quarter to six a telegram arrived for him:

« All right. Bradley."

" He 's got it," shouted Jacob, regardless of office
propriety.

" How do you know? " asked old Eckholt, pausing,
towel In hand — he always went down to wash pre-
cisely at a quarter to six.

Jacob thrust the telegram upon him.

" H'm ! " said old Eckholt.

*' Oh ! sucks for you ! you old fool," said Jacob,
rudely, as soon as the old man had left the room.

4.

There is no precise material from which an exact
account of that momentous interview between Bradley
and the Committee can be reconstructed, but in
Jacob's mind there remains an impression of the
scene, partly created by Bradley's own report of
the proceedings, partly romantic. It has, Indeed,
the essential qualities of the romantic. The hero,
however modern, has those heroic gifts of courage
and craft which have dignified the adventurer from
the days of Odysseus. There is, too, a one-eyed giant
to be overcome, and though he appears under so
unromantic a name as George Beane, he is not less
powerful than the giants of Homer's imagining. His

346 JACOB STAHL

one eye is fixed upon a protege whose designs have
not been placed by the assessors; but what of that?
Beane was Mayor of Birchester, and he beheved that
he had the Committee under his thumb. The protege,
too, was his son-in-law. " You leave it to me, my
boy. I '11 fix it," the giant may have said in private
— nepotism is not unknown even in the municipal
councils of our own days. The irony of the affair
lies in the fact that George Beane was a building
contractor. Also, he was an essential pillar of the
Church ; he had been a pillar of the Methodist Con-
nexion before he turned Beane and Co. into a limited
company.

The other protagonist had nothing to support
him but his wit, backed by a comprehensive knowl-
edge and a cool determination to win. The cas-
ual observer, — says the commercial traveller who
sat opposite to the hero in the train, — would have
detected none of the qualities necessary to fit this
quiet man for the Homeric struggle. The casual
observer took him at first for a brother bagman, with
sample baskets in the van. He saw a fair-haired
man with a trim moustache, and gold-rimmed spec-
tacles that did not disguise the expression of keen,
rather small blue eyes under brows that drew to-
gether and were separated by one strongly-marked
vertical line, almost to be spoken of as a cleft. He
was dressed well, in frock-coat, top-hat and patent-
leather boots — what was good enough for Paris or
London, was not good enough for a committee of
tradesmen in a big provincial town. He carried his
clothes well, he was neither too short nor too tall for
them, and the clothes were neither soiled nor new —
only his gloves were new. " A first-class round for
some big house, old-established, might be connected
with the firm," was the casual observer's sunmiary;

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 347

but he was biassed, he thought in his own groove.
He may be forgiven for not perceiving the Homeric
qualities.

Undoubtedly Bradley recognized the leader of
the Committee from the outset. Beane was not in
his mayoral robes, but he bore the stamp of the
" boss " — a man of middle height, somewhat sparsely
bearded, with a face which showed that his money
had not been made in the shop, and square thick
hands — Beane had started life as a stone-mason.
" That 's the man I 'm up against," was Bradley's
first impression, he told Jacob so much and also that
he guessed Beane, at first sight, a builder.

The parley began with broad, simple questions
from the assessors ; gentlemen both, and willing
enough to pass this aspirant to Birchester honours
if he appeared competent. They were soon satisfied,
the elder boasted, later, that even in the first brief
exchange of civilities, he recognized a man who would
make his mark.

Then the giant enters, already uneasy, but deter-
mined to expose the ignorance of this " cock-sure
young j ackanapes " from London. He is a practical
man, this Mayor, and is not tired of so describing
himself; he enters the field with a confidence begot-
ten and bred during a long experience of the un-
practical architect. Unhappily the subject is not
matter for an epic, it is not a world-story, it is too
technical. Beane was a progressive man, if he had
been rigidly conservative in building matters, he
might have made a better showing. He believed in
modern appliances and modern methods — he led off
with what was then a modem material in construc-
tion, he tried to pose Bradley on the uses of steel-
construction.

Only a week before Beane had had a prolonged

348 JACOB STAHL

argument with his aspiring son-in-law which had had
a bearing on this very subject — and had left the
young man protesting that steel-construction was
outside the architect's province, it was a matter for
the engineer. Mayor Beane felt confident that he
would disgrace the whipper-snapper from London in
the face of the Committee, by a few questions on this
practical point. The word " practical " must needs
recur in speaking of Beane — it was his talisman.

So he fired his first question and being just one
fraction disconcerted, reverted to a habit of past
days and, in the question, spoke of rolled iron
joists.

Bradley answered the question with fluency, and
added as a rider, " Of course there is no object in
using a rolled iron joist when one can use steel, which
is cheaper."

" Cheaper, eh? " sneered Beane, realizing his mis-
take, but setting a trap.

" Dearer weight for weight, certainly," said Brad-
ley, " but cheaper to use, when you take the scantling
into account."

The lay members of the Committee did not under-
stand why, but they saw a point was scored against
the Mayor.

It was but the first of many. Bullying had no
effect. Bradley was calm, self-contained, competent.
In practical matters it seemed that he had as much
knowledge as his builder examiner, and when it came
to theory he almost had the giant interested. It was
only by an effort that Beane remembered his son-in-
law, and all that his son-in-law would connote should
Beane and Son win the contract for the Municipal
Offices, in fair and open tender.

The senior assessor interposed at last with " Really,
Mr. Mayor, I think we are quite satisfied."

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 349

If there had been one point bungled, the giant
might have made material out of it, but he was beaten,
he had not a leg to stand on. He had but one vote
in a committee of eight, and he had been so confident
of his own ability that he had hardly troubled to
canvass his fellow-members. The son-in-law must
necessarily be kept in the background for the mo-
ment, and he had said little to his colleagues beyond
sneering at the possibility of adopting some young
jackanapes from a London office, to carry out so big
a job. Experience was what was needed, practical
experience, and doubtless Beane, of Beane and Co.,
had had no fear of demonstrating before the Com-
mittee that any London jackanapes had not the es-
sential recommendation. Major-General Sir Henry
H. Barrow-Fayne, the only co-opted member of the
Committee (the assessors had no vote), had heard the
Mayor's anticipatory description of the first premium-
winner, and Sir Henry spoke of the memorable en-
counter ever afterwards as the story of Jackanapes
and the Beanstalk. Sir Henry's was a county family
more famed for solidity than wit, and this jeu de
mots had quite a vogue.

Beane's last stroke was unfortunate, and finally
aUenated the sympathy of his fellow-members.

" I suppose you 'd like that premium paid in cash.'*
— You '11 be wanting the money to set up your own
office, likely.?"

Sir Henry and the two assessors winced visibly.

" I was going to suggest," replied Bradley, over-
looking the insult, " that if the work is entrusted
to me, the premium should be merged in the com-
mission. The premium is merely by way of being a
guarantee of good faith."

" No ! No ! ! " It was a general murmur.

Beane was a practical man, with plenty of good,

350 JACOB STAHL

sound common-sense and he knew when he was beaten.
Moreover, he was Mayor and he meant to lead, he
had no intention of being in a minority of one.

" Well ! I 'm satisfied if you are," he said, address-
ing the Committee. To Bradley he was generous.
" You know your business better than most architects
I 've come across, young man, and you may take it
from me that I have had a practical experience."

" Yes. I inferred that," was Bradley's reply, and
Sir Henry and the two assessors smiled.

Thus the confident expression of victory trans-
mitted to Jacob was fully justified.

To Jacob, the great story of Jackanapes and the
Beanstalk furnished an object-lesson in dream pic-
tures. He remembered his conversation with Tony on
the subject of Grover's dismissal by the ancestors of
this very Birchester Committee, and he remembered
how he had constructed an idealized version, in which
he had, himself, figured as the competition winner,
and had been unanimously approved by virtue of cer-
tain qualities of his — not specifically realized. Now
the fact outdid his dream at every point, but instead
of an idealized Jacob Stahl, there appeared the real
person of Owen Bradley, whose opportunities had
not been greater than Jacob's own. The lesson to
be noted, however, was less the fact that Bradley had
certain qualities which were leading him on to success
in his own line, than the fact that for the best con-
struction of dream-pictures, certain practical knowl-
edge was required. " If one had to write that story,
now," reflected Jacob, " it would be necessary to
know many things. I am so vague in my dreams.
I must study detail. I must learn construction." He
had a choice of two corollaries. One must study de-
tail for the purpose of writing romances, or one must
write only of that one knows from experience. Jacob

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 351

inclined to the belief that there was a possible com-
promise which included both alternatives.

5.

The fact of Bradley's success could no longer be
hidden from the office, and congratulation was the
only overt expression of feeling; but no genius for
observation, nor subtle comprehension of human na-
ture, was needed to appreciate the underlying envy
which everyone attempted to disguise in Bradley's
presence. Even Mr. Morley himself, making small
jokes to the effect that he would have to look to his
laurels, was not free from jealousy; though as he
had just been appointed assessor for a contemplated
competition, he could not suggest, — as did many
members of his staff, in private, — that " luck " was
the ruling principle that governed the award in these
matters.

Old Eckholt displayed the general opinion with
more honesty than his colleagues.

" Well, you 're one of the lucky ones, Mr. Brad-
ley," he said. " I 'm sure I congratulate you."

But Jacob, who was present, had a word to say;
he was, as Bradley was quick enough to notice, the
only one who attempted in no way to belittle the
achievement.

" You 're bound to be ' lucky,' Mr. Eckholt," said
Jacob, " if you have genius and persistence — they 're
very rare qualities." This little speech had been pre-
pared in anticipation, there had been no question that
the opportunity to bring it in would be afforded.

" Oh ! Mr. Bradley quite deserves it, I 'm sure,"
was the old man's repartee, which still begged the
main question, and left Jacob grumbling that that
was not the point.

362 JACOB STAHL

Bradley's leave-taking was not long deferred.
George Beane might have proved a stumbling-block
to Bradley's acceptance by the Committee, but he was
a most useful asset when it came to practical affairs.
No unseemly delays were to throw discredit on Birches-
ter's Corporation, when a building undertaking was
in hand under the management of that expert, Mayor
Beane. The site had to be cleared and the house-
breakers set to work. " We will make the excavations
and the foundations a separate contract if you like,"
suggested Bradley ; " it will save a lot of time."

George Beane openly expressed his admiration for
Birchester's new architect, and took all the credit for
the appointment. " He knows his job," repeated the
Mayor, " and that 's rare enough among architects."

Inwardly George Beane was wondering how he
would fare when it came to the question of tenders.
He decided not to enter for the foundation contract.
" Come Christmas, my term of office will be over, and
I shall have a freer hand," he meditated. " Likely
I 'd better resign — temporarily — from the Council,
when I get the job."

Meantime Bradley had his hands full. There were
all the contract drawings to be got out for the quan-
tity surveyor. He had begun working on them the
night he returned from Birchester ; his notes, trac-
ings, and memory furnished sufficient material for
pencil outlines ; the prize drawings were still on exhi-
bition at the Town Hall, There were, too, all the ar-
rangements to be made for taking and furnishing an
office and for engaging a staff. The office was to be
in London. It had been suggested that he should
move to Birchester, but Bradley had resolutely op-
posed that suggestion. No field smaller than London
was big enough for Bradley. Mayor Beane had
made no attempt to alter Bradley's determination in

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 353

this respect ; possibly Mr. Beane was of opinion that,
should he win the contract, he would sooner that this
well-informed, young architect should not appear
too often on the site.

There proved to be no lack of money for the ac-
complishment of these things. The thought had oc-
curred to Jacob, picturing the economies of the Stock-
well lodging, that Bradley might be glad of a loan.
There was Aunt Hester's little legacy, practically
untouched, if Bradley cared to use it. He might if
he liked make a business transaction of it and pay
interest.

But when Jacob, tentatively, inquired whether
finance offered any difficulties, Bradley replied that
he had £2,000 — partly saved — for this emergency.
" I knew I should want it, one day," said Bradley
quietly. Jacob admired the principle, but he was
disappointed in that he had not been enabled to offer
even this little assistance. . . .

When Bradley had gone, the office seemed very
deserted. For two weeks Jacob shared the room with
old Eckholt, who was no companion, though he talked
more now than when Bradley had been there. Jacob
wondered whether the old man had not been slightly
in awe of Bradley's superior knowledge. It had oc-
curred to Jacob that his old office companion, Ben-
netts, might care to make application for the vacant
place on Mr. Morley's staff, and he wrote a friendly
letter making the suggestion. But Bennetts had been
admitted into some kind of partnership with Mr.
Baker, who had been suffering from diabetes and less
able to look after his out-door work than he had been ;
so Bennetts thanked Jacob for his thought, but re-
fused the offer.

Jacob had wondered whether he might not be of-
fered a place in Bradley's new office, but no such offer

954i JACOB STAHL

was made. " I suppose I am not good enough," he
thought bitterly, remembering Bradley's advice to
drop architecture in favour of literature, should a
reasonable opportunity present itself. The bitter-
ness was more or less justifiable. Bradley was march-
ing on to success ; he wanted no avoidable handicaps
and he wanted every second of his time ; he had none
to spare for friendship just then, and Jacob, guess-
ing this, and anxious to avoid putting himself in a
false position, did not press his society on his trans-
lated friend. Bradley was still admirable, his quali-
ties were splendid, but he was no longer a hero.
Jacob had now definitely assigned the boundaries of
Bradley's limitations.

After a fortnight a new assistant came to fill the
vacant stool. He was a middle-aged man with a
pointed beard that was streaked with white. He had
once been in practice for himself and was on the de-
scending path, a fact which he denied in secret, and
attempted to hide in public by an assumption of
superiority. He was rather deaf and spoke little,
but he let it be understood that he had only accepted
the berth temporarily, to oblige Mr. Morley. No
companion, this, for Jacob.

There remained Leigh-Weston and his two com-
panions in the next room, and Jacob contracted the
habit of spending some of his time with them when
Mr. Morley was safely out of the way. He even went
home with Leigh-Weston on one or two occasions and
invited him, in turn, to Great Ormond Street, but the
acquaintance did not ripen. . . .

Time went by and Jacob, wrapped in his books —
he was a steady and capable reader by this time —
almost forgot the attractions of human companion-
ship out of office hours. In the office he had made
steady progress. He was a trusted draughtsman

BRADLEY'S TRANSLATION 355

novr, his tracing days were quite done with, and often
he forgot that he was not in some sense a success —
by contrast he was a success in the office, there were
three or four new assistants now ; juniors to him. At
the end of five years with Mr. Morley he was earning
£2 10s. a week. With his private income he was com-
paratively rich, quite rich enough to indulge his taste
in books. He had over four hundred now, and wanted
a new bookcase.

One day, about six months after the great competi-
tion, Jacob met Bradley in the street.

" Hallo ! " said Bradley, *' why have you never been
to see me? "

" Thought you were too busy," replied Jacob.

" You were n't far out," said Bradley, " I have been
pressed. I 've got two more jobs, besides the Bir-
chester building, in hand."

" Good man ! " answered Jacob.

" But I shall be freer in a month or two," went on
Bradley. " We must have an evening together."

" Thanks ! I should like it immensely."

" Still at the same address ? "

" Oh yes ! I 'm not thinking of moving."

Bradley was evidently in a hurry, but Jacob had
one more question to ask, " I say," he said, " did
that old bhghter, the Mayor, get the Birchester
contract.'* "

Bradley laughed. " No ! Beane's tender was the
lowest, but one, and he used all his influence to get it
accepted, but I did n't want him as contractor, I
don't think he was straight."

" So you hoofed him? "

Bradley nodded.

It was a fitting sequel to the story of Jackanapes.

BOOK FIVE

LOLA

BOOK FIVE

LOLA

CHAPTER XXIV

AN INTEODUCTION AND AN ENGAGEMENT
1.

" It 's the people that fetch me. My dear Lola, do
look at that woman coming in ! All over bits. Where
did she collect them? "

" You always meet some of those appalling people
at a reception of this sort."

" I have n't the very dimmest notion what the re-
ception 's for."

" Wild Birds' Protection Society, is n't it.? "

" I thought it must be something wild. Here are
some of the very wildest birds coming in now.
They 're all moulting, or moulted, not a feather on
them; no wonder they want protecting. Where do
they come from? "

" Oh ! the women are simply appalling."

" They amuse me. I must imitate that old bird
over there, when I get home. I 'm dying to do it
now."

" Don't ! I shall laugh, and we shall be turned out
in disgrace. One is not supposed to be amused. It 's
all very serious."

" The men are not nearly so interesting. They
have n't got that scallywaggy look the women have."

" No ! Some of them look quite decent."

360 JACOB STAHL

" I 'm rather sorry for that lost-looking little bird,
over there in the corner."

" Trying to appear absorbed in the water-
colours ? "

" Yes ! He is quite lost. When he came in, he
did n't know the Duchess was receiving, and he cut
her dead. Never even looked at her ! He walked on,
sweetly innocent that the Duchess was ready to shake
hands with him and that he had given her the very
coldest of shoulders,"

" How funny ! He looks rather nice."

" Is he English, do you think.'' His hair 's so
dark."

" Irish, I should say. His eyes are blue — rather
a nice blue. I noticed them when he passed just now."

" He looks as if he 'd been ill. Do you notice how
he leans on his stick ? "

"Isn't he a little lame? What would you guess
he is.?"

" Oh ! Literary, my dear."

" M — yes, perhaps ! He does n't look hard up.'*

" Or an artist — possibly."

*' He looks too much like a gentleman."

*' That 's nothing ; he might be an Academician."

*' Too young."

" I think you 're right about his being lame.
There 's something not quite right about his legs — =
I can't make out what it is. Does n't it strike you
that they are just about one size too small for him?
He 's quite a well-developed man above the waist."

" Yes ! I like the lameness. It gives him a dis'
tingue look."

" He 's trying to work up an interest in the pic-
tures this side now. He certainly looks very lost,
lorn and lonely, my dear. What a pity we can't
take pity on him and make him get us some tea."

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 361

As the subject of discussion passed the two women,
the less vivacious, addressed by her companion as
Lola, looked up at him under her eyelashes. There
was the suspicion of a smile in the look, a smile of
encouragement ; but the eyelashes — they were quite
distinctly a feature — were dropped again almost
immediately.

The man hesitated — it was a barely perceptible
hesitation — and passed on.

" A very shy bird, my dear."

" My dear Sally, he could hardly come up and
speak to us."

" Why not .'' We 've all shaken hands with the
Duchess. Is n't that sufficient introduction ? "

" You said he did n't shake hands with her."

" I forgot that. Oh ! no, it would n't do at all.
I shouldn't dream of knowing him under the
circumstances."

" I don't know. It 's rather distinguished to cut
a Duchess."

" My dear, don't you feel as if you could peck a
little seed?"

" I suppose we shall have to go and forage for
ourselves."

** It 's a pity our nice man was so shy."

The tea-room was overcrowded. The visitors evi-
dently found tea more interesting than the exhibitions
of the Society of Painters in Water-Colour, whose
premises were lent for the purposes of the reception.
The two women peeped in, but decided that the " birds
were too wild."

In a room beyond, which they investigated with
a faint hope of finding further provision for tea,
they saw the nice man, almost alone, still studying
art.

" Let 's sit down and look bored to the world," sug-

862 JACOB STAHL

gested the woman addressed as Sally. " He must be
able to see we 're starving."

Her companion smiled. " I could do anything for
the sake of tea," she said.

The student of water-colours noticed their en-
trance. " I wish I had the pluck to speak to them,"
he was reflecting, " but they would probably be of-
fended. I don't know, though, why they should be.
I 'm such a hopeless idiot in these things. I 've no
self-confidence to carry the thing off." He turned
round and looked in the direction of the two women.
They were sitting down, but they were not looking
at him. They appeared so entirely unconscious of his
presence in the room, that he allowed his glance to
rest upon them for a moment. One of them was dark
and rotund — " not pretty," decided the man, " but
she looks jolly — amusing, rather a good sort, I
should think. The other . . ." He could not decide
about the other. She was very slight, her eyes were
of rather a deep blue, she had brown hair two or three
shades lighter than her eyebrows and eyelashes, which
were not quite black. She wore her hair dressed low in
the neck. This was not the prevailing fashion and it
gave her a look of intellectuality, the look of a woman
who " did something." She had on a loose dress of
some lavender-grey material, a large black hat and a
black feather boa with a hint of bronze-green in it.

" Interesting," was the word that came first. " She
might be literary, or artistic ; or an actress," was the
further verdict. " Something a little French about
her — perhaps it 's the way she uses her hands when
she talks." The word "interesting" came back; it
seemed conclusive.

"Oh! he's very shy, my dear," said the "jolly-
looking " woman. " He '11 never dare, unless we give
him most marked encouragement."

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 363

" Wait till he comes past," suggested she who had
been labelled " interesting."

" My dear Lola, I had no idea you were so
daring."

" I 'm not. I 'm dying for tea, and we can't go tiU
we 've heard some of the speeches."

Sally yawned ostentatiously. " Speeches .'' " she
asked.

" Oh ! we must. He 's coming. Back me up. . . ."
Then in a louder voice, " The arrangements are per-
fectly disgraceful. It 's absolutely hopeless for two
women to get tea; the way those people crowd and
push is perfectly appalling."

The man paused, quite perceptibly this time. He
was carrying his hat, but he somehow conveyed the
idea that he would have liked to raise it ; his bow had
an air of incompleteness, as of one unaccustomed to
bowing.

"I — I don't know whether I could be of any use,"
he said, with some hesitation. " I might be able to
get some tea for you — perhaps."

" Oh ! that 's very kind of you," said the j oily-
looking woman rather coldly. " I 'm afraid you won't
find it an easy matter."

The other woman smiled. " We 're just dying for
tea," she said.

The man hurried away, evidently intent on the
business of tea-getting. At first sight it seemed a
hopeless task. The buffet was besieged, and the
tables were being served by waitresses who never stand
by a man on such occasions. Boldly to attack the
buffet seemed almost an impossibility to the lone man
of this occasion. He foresaw the necessity for some-
thing approaching a physical struggle. To bribe a
waitress was, also, probably the wrong thing to do,
he thought; moreover, it was doubtful whether tea

364 JACOB STAHL

was served in that other room; to secure a table in
this one was impossible. He hesitated, inclined to
make a dash for freedom and seek the safety of Picca-
dilly. Why had he been such a fool as to offer to
do a thing that he was obviously incompetent to do?
He took three steps towards the outer room and
safety, and was met by Fate in the person of a
leisurely waiter, returning from his duties of atten-
tion to the party of the Duchess — served with
decency, separated from the crowd.

" I want tea for two," said the nice man. " For
two ladies. They are in the room through there."
He indicated the exact position.

The waiter paused on the verge of an excuse, but
relented when he found the proffered tip was a half-
crown. The aristocracy always commanded his re-
spect, and the imperious demand and the willingness
to pay for conveniences, evidently placed this man
above the heterogeneous crowd of wild-bird lovers
clamouring at the buffet.

" I will wait for you," said the nice man, thereby
solving a difficult problem for himself — to return
with a mere promise of tea and await the oncoming
of the waiter involved a period of awkwardness, and
if the waiter proved faithless, what then? While he
waited, he looked into the small gallery through the
hinge of the door and noted that the two women
were now the only occupants of the room. When the
tea appeared — a special tea second only to that of
the Duchess — he indicated the position of the ladies
to the waiter, and walked back into the larger gallery.
He was debating a question of tact. He had solved
the first problem by ordering tea for two only. He
had not forced himself upon them. He must avoid
that. He felt that he could not now wander back into
the small gallery. He was conscious of a wish to

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 365

make the further acquaintance of that person he had
labelled as interesting, but even more of a wish to
make his way out into the safety of Piccadilly. He
compromised by deciding to make no further ad-
vances. It was for the two women to acknowledge his
services, if they desired his further acquaintance.
Yet here was the promise of an adventure. He had
not adventured for so long — furthermore, this ad-
venture was of an entirely new kind.

" He 's not coming back," said Sally, as the two
enjoyed their tea in the luxury of the quiet Uttle
gallery. " He evidently does not wish to make our
acquaintance."

" Rather nice of him, though, was n't it? " replied
Lola.

" Nice, but not flattering."

" I don't know. I think it is rather flattering. If
we meet him we must thank him."

" Of course."

Sally seemed content with tea; Lola looked up
more than once in the direction of the door which led
to the buffet, and presently she ventured the remark
that she thought the nice man was interesting.

Fate would not leave the nice man alone on Uiis
afternoon, and ordained that he should, by the purest
accident, find himself seated immediately behind the
two women during the progress of the speeches. In
an interval, she who had attracted his chief attention
turned and saw him. He bowed slightly and experi-
mented with a society smile.

" So very good of you," said the interesting woman,
turning round. " We enj oyed our tea immensely.
We are very grateful."

The plump woman turned, also, and smiled her ac-
quiescence in these statements.

" Such a beastly crush, was n't it? " replied the nice

see JACOB STAHL'

man. " I was lucky enough to commandeer a waiter.
There was only one."

Bother the speeches ! A long thin man with a sandy
beard was on his legs, and looked good for an hour,
and the new acquaintanceship was beginning so auspi-
ciously. He had done the right thing for once and
had replied to her thanks with a passable common-
place. " Commandeer " was rather a good word to
have used.

The tall speaker was tedious. The woman in front
did not turn her head again; nevertheless the nice
man found her more and more interesting. He was
lost in a day-dream when the sound of applause waked
him to the fact that the speech was over at last. The
two women in front had evidently had enough; they
were preparing to go. What was he to do.^* It was
not Fate that helped him this time. The two women
went out quickly, without turning round — another
speaker was on his feet — but the feather boa which
the interesting woman had been wearing was left
hanging, most conspicuously, over the back of her
chair.

The design was obvious enough, but not to the nice
man, who attributed the left property to luck. Re-
gardless of the opening sentences from the platform,
he collected the boa and made for the exit. He met
his two acquaintances half-way down the stairs —
they were returning in search of the lost boa.

*' You are playing the part of Providence to us, this
afternoon," was the greeting he received.

" Really.'* I thought Providence was looking after
me," he said, and then wondered if he had been too
bold. The plump woman was looking at him with
coldly inquiring eyes; she appeared to be summing
him up, but her companion evidently found no cause
for oifwice, for she went on:

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 367

" It 's abominable the way they manage these af-
fairs, isn't it? I do think they might take a little
more trouble to do the thing decently."

" Yes, it was very badly managed," he said, and
found himself quite naturally walking with the two
women towards the entrance.

The woman with the boa turned to her friend as
they arrived on the pavement of Piccadilly. " You 're
coming home with me, Sally? " she asked, and receiv-
ing a reply in the affirmative, she turned to the nice
man and murmured something about a hansom. He
did n't catch her actual words, but she seemed to
address him famiharly, as a friend, he thought. Han-
soms were abundant and he stood by while the two
women got in.

" Will you tell him to drive to Upper Woburn
Place, — number 27a?" she said, and then added:
" Perhaps we may meet again. So many thanks."

The nice man stood with lifted hat as they drove
off. He had her address, and it seemed to him that
she had intended something more than a polite ex-
pression when she had said, " We may meet again."
There had been something in her tone, in her
look. . . .

Jacob's leisure was restricted. During the week
the call of the office held him the greater part of the
day. But the day following the reception was a Sun-
day ; he was free to follow up his " adventure," as
he thought of it, — if he dared. The unfortunate
part of it was that he did not know the interesting
woman's name. He could n't call.

That Sunday morning found him perturbed. He
could not settle down to read. For the past two years

368 JACOB STAHL

and a half, he had been growing into a habit of lone-
liness and nothing had interfered to disturb him. It
is true that in omnibuses and trains he had frequently
looked with passing interest at women, and wondered
whether some day he might not meet an affinity. At
twenty-seven he still believed firmly in the theory of
an affinity and had decided for many reasons that his
first love had not filled the description. Wherefore
he had regarded many pretty women with earnest
attention — often to their embarrassment — and
wondered whether this one or that one was destined to
play an important part in his life. But his dreams
remained dreams, he merely wondered and left the
initiative to Fate, or the lady favoured at the moment
with his attention, and neither had so far taken up the
challenge. There had been possible acquaintances,
any number of them, but they had all belonged to
another class, waitresses, shop-girls, grisettes. With
these Jacob had made one or two tentative experi-
ments. He had advanced to the confidence necessary
to hold conversation with the Dulcies and Mauds of
City restaurants, and there had been occasional ex-
citements in the way of mild flirtations with previ-
ously unknown young women in the Parks, on Satur-
day or Sunday afternoons. That was all. The
experiments had gone no further. Always some de-
tail, usually the Cockney accent, stood between him
and this feminine flotsam. The old experience with
the confectioner's young lady at Pelsworthy was re-
peated in diff'erent forms. If the teeth of these
chance acquaintances were presentable, some other
defect was in evidence, hair, complexion, figure or an
ensemble of untidiness. Greatest bar of all was their
intellectual standard. Jacob looked for someone
who could share his thoughts on one's relation to the
nebula — none of these had heard of the nebula.

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 369

When it was explained to them, in patiently elaborate
language, they probably said, " Oh ! Fency ! 'ave you
ever been to the fireworks at the Crystal Pelhs ? "
This was not companionship; and after two years'
rigid celibacy, his sexual passions no longer urged
him.

On this Sunday morning he was perturbed by the
contemplation of his loneliness ; it had not presented
itself to him so strongly before. He was conscious
of a desire for the sympathy which no man can give.
In his thought of the interesting woman he had seen
at the reception, she figured as an audience. " If I
could but meet the right woman," he reflected, " I
might do something even now. I shall never work
without some inspiration." In visions, the woman in
grey seemed to be of the type which would furnish
inspiration and sympathy, a charming and satisfac-
tory audience. She looked clever. The friendship
might be ideal, but it was difficult to see how it was to
be brought about. In any case there could be no
harm in a visit of inspection. There was no law,
ceremonial or otherwise, which prohibited a walk down
Upper Wobum Place. One might be returning from
St. Pancras Church, for instance.

Jacob dressed himself for ceremony, and took a
prayer-book which he unearthed from a dusty retreat
behind books more frequently referred to.

He arrived at St. Pancras Church by devious ways,
Judd Street and the Euston Road, and beguiled him-
self until the worshippers were actually leaving the
building. In these pretences he was nothing if not
thorough.

Number 27a, Upper Wobum Place, displayed an
** apartment card " in the fanlight ; there was noth-
ing to differentiate it from its neighbours. No sign
of life was visible. Jacob passed hurriedly, but he

370 JACOB STAHL

slowed down as he came into Tavistock Square and
took counsel with himself. Should he return? Could
he summon up courage to loiter in the vicinity? He
decided that he could not, or, at least, that it was not
the right thing to do.

Lost in speculation, head down, he nearly collided
with someone going in the opposite direction. He
apologized before he recognized that Fate had con-
tinued the work so well begun. After all, the coin-
cidence was not remarkable, and, as it was, he had
nearly missed seeing her.

She on her side was no less surprised. She had not
seen him coming. " How extraordinary ! " was her
salutation.

Jacob stood, his top-hat still in his hand, abashed,
blushing, speechless. It was so unexpected, he was
so unprepared. The " How extraordinary " seemed
an echo of the " Quelle betise " of long years ago.
How little he had changed in the interval!

" I — I was coming back from St. Pancras Church,"
he stammered.

" I 've been to St. Albans," replied the woman —
she was in black this morning — " it 's so much more
interesting. St. Pancras is so triste, don't you
think? "

Here was, indeed, a topic — it made the meeting
seem the most ordinary thing possible, explanations
were unnecessary, the acquaintanceship was taken for
granted — but what an unfortunate topic ! He knew
nothing of London services ; he had never been inside
St. Pancras Church. He prayed for the courage to
give a complete explanation. Instead he digressed.

" Yes ! I think all Church services are — are
triste " — it was a good word — "as a matter of
fact I never go to church."

She raised her eyebrows with a look of appreciative

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 871

interest. " This morning is a grand exception? "
she asked.

" To be quite honest, I did n't go in." He smiled.

" And the prayer-book. "^ " she said, indicating his
manual.

*' A disguise," replied Jacob. This woman was
drawing him out already.

She laughed. " I managed to recognize you, never-
theless," she said, and then : " Do you hve near
here.?"

" Quite near. Great Ormond Street. It has its
advantages. So little traffic, you know."

They were forming a mild obstruction to the south-
bound stream of ex-worshippers from St. Pancras.
Jacob replaced his hat and, quite naturally, they
began to walk back together towards Upper Woburn
Place.

" Yes, I find this rather noisy sometimes," she said
in answer to his last remark, " but there are no 'buses,
thank goodness."

The conversation had become uninteresting, but
they kept to the topic till they reached number 27a.

" This is your house, is n't it.? " asked Jacob.

" Yes."

In the pause that followed, both were struggling
with the same problem, and both were hesitant to
take the initiative. The quicker brain spoke first,
regardless of the convention of masculine priority in
these affairs.

" You must think me a terribly unconventional
person," she said, hurriedly, " but I think there is
so much unnecessary ceremony in these things, don't
you ? " She smiled again.

" Oh ! Rather ! " replied Jacob. " But, really, it
had n't occurred to me that there was any particular
imconventionality. Of course, we have n't been in-

372 JACOB STAHL

troduced, but that's awful rot, really, Isn't it? I
mean, if we were so very keen on finding a mutual
acquaintance, it 's quite likely we might discover
one."

" Yes. Quite ! It 's very silly."

" May I introduce myself? My name is Stahl."

" Stahl? " repeated the woman.

" Yes, it sounds beastly German, does n't it? But
I have never been in Germany. My mother was
Irish."

" I adore Irish people," she murmured. " My
name is Wilmot — Mrs. Wilmot."

" Wilmot," repeated Jacob, sotto voce.

'' I have some friends coming in to tea this after-
noon," she went on, " if you would care to come."

" Thanks. Yes, I should like to very much."

" A bientot, then," nodded Mrs. Wilmot, and let
herself into Number 27a with a latchkey.

" Mrs. Wilmot," repeated Jacob to himself. "She 's
married, then." He wondered if he had made a good
impression.

3.

A moderately clean maid opened the door to Jacob,
and introduced him suddenly into the clatter of voices
and crockery, with the loud announcement, " Mr.
StoU." His hostess disengaged herself from a group,
and came forward to greet him. She gave him the
impression, at once, that he was a favoured visitor,
to be received with enthusiasm. She helped to dis-
embarrass him of hat, stick, and gloves, and brought
him over to a seat near her at the tea-table. So far
as he was in a condition to observe anything, he ob-
served that she was completely at home, self-pos-
sessed ; also — he had not defined it before — that

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 373

she had something of the grand air. She introduced
him to someone sitting next to him, a fatigued-look-
ing woman with pale eyes, loose fair hair, and an
unusually Grecian nose. There were ten or twelve
people in the room, and Jacob was slightly distracted
by their conversation. There was an untidy, fat,
clever-looking man of about fifty, deep in the recesses
of an armchair, who seemed to be attracting general
interest. Jacob would have liked to hear what the
man had to say, but the woman to whom he had been
introduced, insisted on talking. He found she was
criticizing the Academy of the year. Jacob had not
been to the Academy, but he had bought the illus-
trated book which gives one a fair idea of the most
noteworthy pictures, and he tried to appear intelli-
gent by showing that he was acquainted with the
compositions she criticized; the question of colour,
he avoided — he thought, dexterously. By degrees
they slipped from pictures to books.

" What are you two so interested in ? " broke in the
voice of Mrs. Wilmot.

" We are discussing ' The Green Carnation,' " said
the fair woman.

" Reincarnation, eh? " put in a small, clean-shaven
man, who was standing on the hearthrug, " my dear
lady, why bother your head about the unprovable.'' "

Jacob would have corrected the mistake, but the
fair woman accepted the challenge thrown out.

" Because it is only the unsolvable that attracts
me. I love the mystery of it."

** Men find all the attraction of that kind they
need in the study of your sex," said the man on the
hearthrug. " Every woman is insoluble."

" Cairns is a cynic," put in the man from the
armchair. " He regards woman as a badly stated
proposition."

»14i JACOB STAHL

" No, as an excellently stated proposition which it
is entirely beyond my capacity to understand," re-
plied Cairns.

" But why a proposition? " asked Mrs. Wilmot.

" Because she is neither an axiom nor a postulate,"
said Cairns ; " she is certainly not self-evident, and
I defy any man to take her for granted."

Jacob was relieved to be excused from further con-
versation with the fair woman, whose name he found
to be Miss Fermor; he wanted to listen to the man
on the hearthrug. Cairns' face interested him, it was
keen, vigorous, yet deeply lined round mouth and
eyes. " A man of experience who looked rather more
than his age, perhaps," thought Jacob, noting the
grey in Cairns' thick hair ; a barrister or a diploma-
tist, was his guess at Cairns' profession.

" But are n't you ever interested in theories of a
future existence."^ " persisted Miss Fermor.

" No ! " replied Cairns tersely.

" But it makes such a difference," explained Miss
Fermor.

"Pooh! Don't believe it," said Cairns. "The
ideal of a future state makes no difference whatever
in the life of the average man or woman. No one
really believes in it — at least, they never act as if
they do."

" ' There may be heaven, there must be hell,' "
ventured Jacob, taking his first hand in the con-
versation,

" ' Meanwhile there is our life here,' " said Cairns,
completing the quotation. " And that 's the point
of the whole thing."

" The amusing thing about this conversation," said
Jacob, gathering courage, " is that it began with a
misunderstanding. When you asked what we were
talking about, we said ' The Green Carnation,' which

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 875

you translated into metempsychosis." He was rather
proud of the last word.

Mrs. Wilmot laughed, as did, also, the fat man in
the armchair. Jacob felt that he had scored a dis-
tinct point, but Cairns refused to be diverted.

" It is such a waste of time," he went on, " perplex-
ing and tormenting ourselves with guesses as to a
thing about which there is not a single scrap of evi-
dence, and which has no bearing on our present
actions."

" You, a positivist. Cairns ? " asked the fat man.

" No ! I 'm nothing — except a single-taxer, that 's
my religion," answered Cairns.

It occurred to Jacob that this was another aspect
of the Eric attitude. Eric had certain interests,
Cairns had others, that was all, though Jacob had
not the least idea what a " single-taxer " might be.
He learnt the true inwardness of that proposition
before long, however. Cairns had the stage, now,
and he talked well. The conversation narrowed down.
Cairns was in the position of a lecturer; subject,
however, to interruptions, many of them beside the
point. Jacob, absorbedly listening, found himself
being addressed by Mrs. Wilmot.

" Such a clever man, Mr. Cairns, is n't he? " she
was saying. " He is a splendid speaker — '*

" Is he a — a Socialist.'' " asked Jacob.

"Oh! yes."

" Are you.-^ "

" I think everyone must be who sees the wretched-
ness of people's lives in London, don't you.'' "

" I don't know that I 'd thought of it in that
way," said Jacob, who had never thought about it
at all.

Everyone was smoking, including Mrs. Wilmot,
Miss Fermor, and an elderly young woman with a

d76 JACOB STAHL

pince-nez and prominent teeth, who occasionally shot
unreasonable questions at Cairns.

" Do you believe in land-nationalization ? " asked
Mrs. Wilmot. She and Jacob were a little out of the
main stream of argument, and it was possible to talk.
The sofa on which they were sitting had been drawn
back across the comer of the room under the window,
they were secluded in an eddy.

" I have never really considered the idea," replied
Jacob. He had read Herbert Spencer, but had over-
looked the practical deductions of Henry George.

" I don't think / am quite convinced," murmured
Mrs. Wilmot, smiling sympathetically. Her smile
made Jacob feel pleased with himself in some incom-
prehensible manner. It was a smile that flattered
him and seemed to admit him into confidence, a smile
at once admiring and intimate.

" But Mr. Cairns is so keen on it," she continued,
" that one can hardly help believing him."

" Is he a barrister? " asked Jacob.

" No ! He 's on the Stock Exchange."

*' Is it rude of me to ask these questions.? I am
so interested."

" Oh ! no ! " A simple reply, but the tone and
look conveyed that nothing Jacob could do would be
amiss. There was a clear implication of, " I 'm only
too eager to answer any questions of yowrsJ'^ He
wondered; the thing was utterly incomprehensible,
but it was very sweet. They seemed to be sharing
a secret, the rest of the company were outsiders.

" And the man in the armchair.? " he continued.

" That 's Guy Latham," was the reply. Guy
Latham seemed a name one ought to know.

Jacob racked his brain. "Oh!" he ejaculated,
and paused, as one on the verge of remembrance.

" Henry Latham's elder brother, you know,"

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 377

prompted Mrs. Wilmot, mentioning the name of a
popular stage favourite. " Guy acts, too, but he
writes. He 's very clever, but he has never made a
big success."

"Plays.?" asked Jacob.

" Chiefly. He adapts for his brother, very often.
But he wrote a book called ' Little Utopia.' I dare
say you 've never come across it."

" O — oh ! " A prolonged and rising oh ! signifi-
cant of sudden revelation. " Yes ! I have read it. I
thought it awfully good. But I have been labouring
under the delusion that it was Henry Latham who
wrote it. Very stupid of me."

Their attention was diverted for the moment by
sudden vehemence on the part of Cairns.

" My dear lady," he was saying to the rabbit-faced
woman in eye-glasses, " this is one of those things
that you can never see by halves. It 's like one of
those pictures. Here is a wood — puzzle, find the
cat. You turn it upside down, hold it every way,
and you see nothing but a drawing of a wood. Then
quite suddenly you see the cat, and for the life of you
you can't look at that puzzle afterwards without see-
ing the cat first. In this question of private owner-
ship, you 've only got to see the cat once, and you '11
never change your opinion afterwards. The cat 's
there, all right, all the time, but you 've become so
used to the idea of only seeing a wood that you can't
see the cat even when it 's pointed out to you."

If Mrs. Wilmot was bored, she did not show it.
*' He 's very convincing, is n't he.'' " she said to Jacob,
and made him feel that it was solely for his benefit
that Cairns was lecturing.

" I must read this man, what 's his name.f* Henry
George," replied Jacob. " I am ashamed to say I
never heard of him before."

378 JACOB STAHL

" Ask Mrs. Wilmot !" interrupted Cairns, laughing.

Jacob had not heard the point referred to his
hostess, but she apparently had been quite equal to
the task of attending to two things at once. She
seemed to take the reference seriously.

" Yes, I see Mr. Cairns' point of view. I think I 've
seen the cat — but I often wonder if I should n't be
conveniently blind to its existence if I had property
of my own."

" Ha ! ha ! Bravo ! bravo ! " laughed Cairns,
*' that 's just the point. The moment a question of
this sort touches our own pocket we become * con-
veniently blind.' In other words, we refuse to ac-
knowledge the intrinsic justice of any proposition
which would involve our own loss. And women are
so intensely practical that they can never see a theory
on broad lines. They want an application of it at
once to some case in their own experience. If you
talk to them about the land question, they think of
brother Tom, who has got a freehold in Kent, and
say : ' But I don't see why Tom should give up his
land for the sake of a principle.' Good God! It's
this very devotion to private interests which is re-
sponsible for all the misery."

Jacob found it all intensely interesting. It was
an entirely new atmosphere for him. He stayed as
long as he could, but the rabbit-faced woman was
evidently waiting for him to go, and when at last
all with this exception had taken their departures, he
became suddenly alive to the fact that he might have
outstayed his welcome. He made his apologies, and
explained his protracted visit by the intensity of his
interest.

Mrs. Wilmot accompanied him into the hall. " We
must try and arrange a quieter visit," she said ; " I
generally have a good many people on Sundays."

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 379

" Oh ! I should like that, immensely," said Jacob
eagerly.

She smiled at him, that same half-intimate, half-
admiring smile. " Would you care to come to tea
on Thursday?" she said, "there will be only Deb
here, then."

He understood " Deb " to be the rabbit-faced
woman. "Thursday.''" He hesitated, remembering
office obligations. " I 'm not quite sure whether I
shall be able to get away."

" Perhaps some other day, then." The tone indi-
cated a sudden fall of temperature, it conveyed the
suggestion of " Don't come if you would sooner not."

" You see," explained Jacob, anxious to put things
clearly, " it is a question of getting away from the
office."

" Shall we leave it open, then? " asked Mrs. Wil-
mot, as she shook hands. " It won't make any dif-
ference, you know, if you find you can come at the
last moment."

Arrived in the unfriendly atmosphere of Upper
Woburn Place, Jacob called himself a fool. He had
been rude, distinctly rude. Bother the office! Good
Lord ! what did the office matter ? Of course he could
get away for one afternoon. If Morley were in, it
meant asking him, that was all. But when the invi-
tation had been given, his mind had been looking at
it, as at a secret adventure. He had wondered
whether Mr. Morley would be away, so that an es-
cape would be possible. " I don't believe I shall ever
grow up," reflected Jacob, on his way towards Hol-
born. He was surprised to find that it was nearly
eight o'clock. . . .

Despite the chill at parting, he was greatly elated,
excited with his afternoon's experience. These were
the kind of people he ought to know if he ever meant

380 JACOB STAHL

to set up in private practice. Cairns had shaken
hands when he said good-bye, and said : " We shall
have to convert you." Jacob was quite willing to be
converted to nationalization; indeed, he was more
than half converted already.

When he had eaten his modest dinner at the Italian
restaurant in Holborn he always favoured on Sunday
evening, he found himself looking at the world with
a new interest. He had something to live for, some-
thing recognizably attractive. The dull routine of
office would be enlivened for him during the next few
days by the knowledge that he would see Mrs. Wil-
mot again on Thursday. She was the sun round
which moved such informing satellites as Cairns and
Guy Latham. Jacob was ever ready to swing into a
new orbit. Mrs. Wilmot was a fascinating woman,
he had never met anyone like her before, and she
seemed, for some utterly unaccountable reason, to
have taken a fancy to him. It was an amazing cir-
cumstance, utterly without precedent — at least —
No! there had been that equally incomprehensible
case of Madeline Felmersdale. But she was a girl, a
child, shut up in the country. This was a mature
woman — Jacob guessed her at thirty — and, by the
way, married. It occurred to him that there had
been no sign of a husband. Yet Jacob did n't think
she looked like a widow; possibly because he asso-
ciated the idea of widows with caps and weeds — even
young widows. The husband might be away, or she
might be separated from him. Bother the husband !
On reflection, Jacob did n't believe there could be a
husband. He put aside the thought of obstacles, and
returned to the original theme of his reflections. Was
it possible, conceivable, that for some extraordinary
and utterly unaccountable reason, Mrs. Wilmot had
taken a fancy to ^m, the unimportant, unattractive

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 381

Jacob Stahl? He denied the possibility, but looked
forward eagerly to Thursday. Life was worth living
again.

4.

" Deb " was one of those kind-hearted, hero-wor-
shipping, well-meaning, blind people who never fail to
put in an appearance when they are least wanted. It
is a rule of their kind to accept all invitations of the
reigning hero, in order that they may carry on the
ceremonial of worship, spoken or tacit ; wherefore the
inference that Deb was incapacitated on the occasion
of the Thursday tea-party at 27a, should certainly
have occasioned Mrs. Wilmot a certain amount of un-
easiness. Nevertheless, after a polite wait of ten min-
utes or so, the hostess displayed no overwhelming
anxiety on behalf of a non-appearing Deb, a callous-
ness which calls for remark, since Mrs. Wilmot was
well acquainted, not only with the habits of the type,
but with the invariable rule of this particular repre-
sentative; and she must have known that an invited
Deb could only be deterred from putting in an ap-
pearance by some intervention amounting to " an act
of God " — as the insurance policies say.

Jacob, unlearned in the habits of type or repre-
sentative, sat in momentary anticipation of an intrud-
ing personality in a pince-nez. She formed the staple
of his conversation during the ordained wait of ten
minutes or so. He invented plausible excuses for her,
beginning his sentences with " perhaps " or, to vary
the monotony, with an occasional " possibly." Even
after the introduction of tea, his mind appeared to
be so obsessed with the absent visitor that he reverted
to her at every pause. He seemed to have conceived
an overwhelming desire to meet Deb once again.

88« JACOB STAHL

Curiously, this evidence of nervousness on his part
found a reflection in the conversation of Mrs. Wilmot,
who might have been judged superior to such a weak-
ness. She did not display the same apprehension as
to possible fates which might have befallen her friend,
but her fluency on subjects of similar unimportance
was equally marked. She was, however, the first to
recover. The stage was marked by the elimination of
Deb.

" She won't come, now," said Mrs. Wilmot, with an
air of finality ; " she said definitely that if she were
not here by a quarter to five, I was not to expect her."

The faulty psychology escaped Jacob, who could
not know that Deb was never definite unless it were in
her acceptance of Mrs. Wilmot's invitations. Had
there been the least possibility of Deb's acceptance,
she would have scrambled in at the last moment —
seven o'clock would have found Mrs. Wilmot still
expectant on ordinary occasions.

However, for the purpose of conversation Deb was
eliminated. Mrs. Wilmot chose the new subject. Her
theme was books — not the " books, books, books "
of the Eric menage, but a light hovering over current
fiction, varied by a flickering swoop at the best-known
classics.

Jacob found himself fully competent to take a hand
in this game. He, too, hovered and swooped, and the
number of books they both knew far exceeded the
number of those known exclusively to one or the other.
In the latter class they exchanged notes, and made
memoranda of certain works which the other " simply
must read."

This was very entertaining, but it led nowhere.
Jacob could not say exactly what brought about the
introduction of the nebula, but it was soon in the fore-
front of the conversation, and Jacob was expounding

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 383

at length — for the first time in his life — his concep-
tion of the meaning of the universe, more particularly
in its application to the evolution of Mrs. Wilmot
and Jacob Stahl. From the purely physical as-
pect of development he soon turned to more ethical
speculations, his cui bono? anticipating the very
spirit of philosopher Caddles's " What 's it all
for? "

Mrs. Wilmot was an ideal listener. Her attention
never flagged for an instant, and she was always
ready to prompt him with a relevant question when
he hesitated, self-consciously, on the verge of apol-
ogy for being a bore. The apology was always anti-
cipated. In face of his listener's absorption, it was
impossible for Jacob to conceive for a single instant
that he could be a bore.

Not since Aunt Hester died had Jacob had such a
listener, and Aunt Hester's intelligence was not on a
level with that of Mrs. Wilmot. To be understood so
sympathetically, so completely, was an experience be-
wilderingly pleasant — it was ecstasy. Jacob had
not known that he could talk so well.

The epitome of his satisfaction is contained in a
sentence.

Necessarily he had narrowed his conception of the
universe down to a single group of atoms. Illustra-
tion of the ethical question had involved the choice of
his own experience. Almost without knowing it, he
had begun to talk of himself.

" I have never had a chance," he said. " I have had
no opportunities for learning. I have never mixed
with the right people."

" One would never know that, if you did n't say
so."

That was the sentence. The bare record of it is
unconvincing. Jacob saw the expression, heard the

884 JACOB STAHL

tone, was conscious of the atmosphere which gave sub-
limity to the words. That sentence, with its concomi-
tants, put him on a pedestal; the utterance of it
expressed that the speaker regarded him not only as
an intellectual god, but — in some curious way it
seemed to count for more than mere intelligence —
as a member of the elite. No one would ever guess
that he had not mixed with the right people ! He had
been persistently neglected and underestimated, it
was only, now, for the first time that someone had
appreciated the fact that he was, indeed, fit for any
society. Flattery could go no farther, and this ex-
pression was so obviously sincere.

His — or more probably her — sense of drama
acknowledged this pronouncement as the climax.
Jacob found himself conscious of the astounding fact
that it was after seven. His leave-taking was not de-
ferred by polite expressions, but it was so warm that
no doubt could be left in the mind as to the complete
success of his call.

" You must come on Sunday," said Mrs. Wilmot,
** and — stay to supper. Possibly Mr. Latham or
Deb will be staying, too. Will you.? "

" Thanks. Yes, I should like it of all things. It
is very good of you." His enthusiasm was evident.

But that was not all.

There was a handshake at parting, — on the very
threshold of the open door, — postponed to the last
moment that no banality should mar the effect by
anticlimax. It was no ordinary handshake. There
was a warm pressure given and returned, and then
the hand of Mrs. Wilmot lingered, almost fondly, for
a perceptible fraction of a second before it was with-
drawn — lingered with the suggestion of a caress.
Her eyelashes were down. Jacob could not see her
eyes, but there was romance in the very rapidity with

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 385

which Mrs. Wilmot closed the door. It had an air
of purpose. He might have fancied that she wished
to conceal from him the evidence of emotion. Her
manner of closing the door completed Jacob's
apotheosis.

5.

Jacob speculated little as to Mrs. Wilmot's cir-
cumstances. He had little material upon which to
found speculations, but that in itself would not have
deterred him. The truth of the matter is that cir-
cumstance was regarded as no more than a halo, the
central figure was so dominant that the setting was
neglected, save in as far as it served to heighten the
relief of the portrait. The halo may be pictured as
expanded to surround the whole figure. Mrs. Wilmot
appears framed in a circular rainbow of vague cir-
cumstance. But Sunday was to be devoted to a cer-
tain amount of work on the background. The artist
was an able one, no other than Cairns ; his detail,
however, did little more than give value to the colour
of the rainbow.

Jacob was occupying the same quiet corner on the
angled sofa. He had been the second arrival at 27a,
and had for some five minutes been practically a lis-
tener to the conversation of Mrs. Wilmot and Miss
Fermor, when Cairns arrived. Miss Fermor was on
the subject of art, again, and though an attempt was
made to include Jacob in the conversation, his con-
tribution had been a very small one. He had the
feeling that his appearance had caused an interrup-
tion — even Mrs. Wilmot had been a shade less effu-
sive, less confidential in her greeting.

" I want you to talk to Mr. Stahl," Mrs. Wilmot
said to Cairns on his arrival. " Miss Fermor and I

386 JACOB STAHL

have to talk shop for a few minutes. You will for-
give us, won't you? "

Cairns had a look of melancholy this afternoon —
he looked as if the struggle with the world were too
much for him. He sat down by Jacob, produced a
cigarette-case automatically, and began to smoke
without asking permission of his hostess. Jacob
would never have thought of smoking before tea. He
thought it a little casual of Cairns.

" Plucky little woman," said Cairns, letting his
inhaled smoke straggle out with his words.

" Mrs. Wilmot.? " asked Jacob.

Cairns nodded and breathed smoke.

"I — to tell you the truth, I don't quite know
. . ." Jacob hesitated; he felt an instinctive disin-
clination to explain his manrier of meeting Mrs.
Wilmot.

" Oh ! " commented Cairns absently, " thought you
were an old friend of hers." His expression was one
of the deepest melancholy.

" No ! I 'm afraid I can't say that."

Silence followed. Cairns seemed content to sit and
smoke. His attention concentrated on some object
beyond the limit of ordinary human vision.

" Difficult job for a woman who has had no par-
ticular training to make her own living." Cairns'
remark was addressed to the opposite wall.

" Yes, I suppose it is," replied Jacob politely.

" Difficult question how far we are justified in not
fitting women for some definite occupation. Per-
sonally I see no reason why a woman should not have
the same training as a man ! " Cairns was still ad-
dressing the wall. His conversation seemed rather in
the manner of a spoken reverie than an attempt at
politeness. He continued : " Take Mrs. Wilmot, for
instance, when her husband died she was absolutely

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 387

unfitted, probably, to earn her own living. I believe
she had a pretty bad time of it. She could draw, of
course, and paint — but there was no market she
knew of, in which she could sell her talent. She had
to learn practically all over again what she did know,
before she was any good for her present job."

" What does she do ? " asked Jacob.

" Drawings of fashions, corsets, petticoats, femi-
nine fripperies generally, for the printers and pro-
cess engravers and advertising agents. She 's a free
lance, of course, but I believe she makes a pretty
decent thing out of it. It means a lot of running
about, getting orders and drawing the things at the
shops, and Lord knows what, but she 's got a regular
market. Still, I fancy she gets rather used up
towards the end of the week. Does n't look strong,
does she.'' "

" N — no, I suppose not," assented Jacob, who
had not noticed that Mrs. Wilmot was anything but
robust so far as health was concerned.

" Too thin," commented Cairns.

" Yes, she is very thin," said Jacob, making an-
other discovery.

" Difficult question," mused Cairns, apparently
reverting to his first speculation on the training of
women.

" Did you know her husband ? " asked Jacob.

" Oh Lord ! no. I 've only known her five or six
months."

That was all the detail Jacob had for his back-
ground. It seemed sufficient. It threw the figure into
relief. Jacob was warmed to a new feeling. Hitherto
he had regarded Mrs. Wilmot solely with admiration,
now he added a desire to protect her from the hard-
ships of making a living. Cairns had said she was
a " plucky little woman," the phrase conveyed the

388 JACOB STAHL

idea of a descent from luxury and high society to the
hard necessities of badly-paid labour. Mrs. Wilmot
was a martyr and unprotesting. There had been no
word of her own difficulties on Thursday — she did
not boast her own pluck. Certainly Jacob wanted to
protect her.

This Sunday afternoon was not so brilliant as the
last. Only Deb and Jacob stayed to supper, and Deb
babbled unceasingly — her conversation did not in-
terest Jacob in the least. As a visit to Mrs. Wilmot,
that Sunday must be written off as a failure, save in-
asmuch as it admitted him to the weekly freedom
of 27a. That was her last word. " You won't wait
to be asked any more, will you.** I am at home every
Sunday."

It was a day to be looked forward to all through
the week. Jacob had had some idea of spending his
summer week-ends on the river. He had even made
inquiries as to the cost of a Canadian canoe. This
plan was quite forgotten.

6.

This week an irruption came before Sunday. It
came on Friday in the shape of a letter. The manner
of it was simple enough:

" Dear Mb. Stahl,

" I have a ticket for a private view of Fletcher
Williams' water-colours at the Grafton Gallery on
Saturday. If you would care to come, will you meet
me at the Gallery at 3 o'clock.?

" Yours very sincerely,

"Lola Wilmot."

The handwriting was artistic, large, but not too
large. The capital G's showed an appreciation for

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 389

line, their backs formed the subtle curve of a cycloid.
These things did not appeal to Jacob — he thought
the writing " pretty," and on second thoughts " re-
fined " — but the matter of the letter was cause for
elation. Even Saturday this week was to be glori-
fied. He replied at once, carefully, expressing his
delight. When he came to the subscription he paused.
Had she said " very sincerely ^'? He referred to her
note, and observed a peculiarity about the signature.
All the note up to and including " Lola " was in black
ink, ink which had been left to dry naturally, the Wil-
mot was faint, evidently written in later, and blotted
at once. Had she carelessly signed her Christian
name only, and remembered later that the conventions
required the addition of a surname ? or — paralyz-
ing thought — had she hesitated? Had she sat for
an uncertain five minutes wondering if she dared to
send the note with so intimate a signature, and then
modestly dashed in the surname, perhaps with a
blush.?

Jacob remembered Madeline at the spring, he re-
membered the thought that had suddenly flashed into
his mind, " Did she expect him to kiss her ? " He had
experimented with the ghost of a kiss, and found he
had been right. Was the experience to be repeated.'*
Did Mrs. Wilmot expect — what.? The thing could
hardly be defined. Did she anticipate a possibility
of warmer relations, of a possible engagement, mar-
riage even.? The idea was too wildly improbable, but
he carried it with him to the office, where he arrived
twenty-five minutes late. He played with the idea as
he worked, and reflected on it at lunch-time. Fur-
thermore, he brought it home with him, and gave it
precedence over the ideas of Mr. Henry George.

His attitude towards the idea was one of paralyzed
wonder. The word " wonderful " indeed was upper-

890 JACOB STAHL

most in his mind. Mrs. Wilmot, for instance, was
quite wonderful. It was the idea that entranced him,
not the question as to whether he were in love with
Mrs. Wilmot. She was so vastly superior to him in
every way that the thought of aspiring to love her
had not crossed his mind. Yet, if she were indeed
human, yes, even if she had condescended to find some-
thing that attracted her in so relatively unworthy a
person as Jacob Stahl, it only made her the more
wonderful. . . .

The private view was crowded, and the arrange-
ments for tea little, if any, superior to those of the
Wild Birds' Protection Society.

" Shall we go somewhere quieter for tea.'"' was a
question which presented itself.

Mrs. Wilmot consented to become Jacob's guest —
he owed a return of civilities, he was already in debt
for three teas and a supper — but she suggested the
rendezvous, out of her superior knowledge of the re-
sources of Bond Street London.

The precise locale is unimportant. The tea-shop
selected by an informed Mrs. Wilmot was one of those
delightful, ephemeral ventures which were more plen-
tiful then than now. It was a place where one might
enjoy the luxuries of ease and quietude. It was the
excess of quietude, the chief recommendation from the
point of view of certain people, which unfortunately
killed those ventures. If only tea-shops could pros-
per on the custom of two people at a time. . . .
These vile economical questions kill comfort as well
as romance.

Another advantage of the basement luxury — the
furnishing was elaborate and comfortable — was that
after tea Mrs. Wilmot could smoke. She confessed
that she was " dying for a cigarette."

The conversation flowed easily over the subject of

INTRODUCTION AND ENGAGEMENT 391

the afternoon's exhibition. From art as a general
topic, with Jacob as an attentive Hstener, a confessed
neophyte, to the degraded form of art which was
Mrs. Wilmot's profession was a natural transition.
No less natural was the development of the still more
personal theme. Jacob fell upon the discovery that
Mrs. Wilmot was " lonely."

" But you have so many friends? " he protested.

"Friends? Oh! acquaintances, yes. Do you think
they count for very much? "

Jacob, practically friendless, was inclined to think
they did, but he compromised with " N — no. Per-
haps not."

It seemed that Mrs. Wilmot's only relation was an
unsympathetic mother hving at Eastbourne. There
was a hint of strained relations ; the reason, vaguely,
a lack of sympathy. Jacob received the impression
that Mrs. Wilmot's mother disapproved of her daugh-
ter's plucky and truly admirable struggle to make
her own living.

" One does not get much sympathy," said Mrs.
Wilmot.

Jacob, a little troubled, was wondering what she
expected him to say. Or do? He forced an opening
— experimentally.

" I want you to tell me something," he began, and
lowered his voice, became intent.

She returned his gaze for a moment, and then
looked down.

" Yes ? What is it ? " The manner of it was a
murmur, not entirely free from self-consciousness.

" In that note you sent me," said Jacob,
" did — did you sign only your Christian name,
first? "

Mrs. Wilmot's eyes were noticeably downcast. If
Jacob had but known it, she was trying to blush.

JACOB STAHL

She said nothing, but her hand wavered in his
direction.

There was no one else in the room. Jacob took
the hand and held it. The warmth of his pressure
was returned.

" Is it possible that you like me, a little.? " he ven-
tured. " It — it seems too wonderful."

The eyelashes lifted for an instant like the shutter
of a camera. That and the pressure of a responsive
hand were sufficient answer.

Jacob had passed the gate through the bars of
which he had peeped into wonderland. How perfect
and desirable a place it appears when glimpsed
through an opening, much too small to permit of
ingress !

CHAPTER XXV

A PAEENTHESIS

Our acquaintances do the most incredible things. In
life people are so disgustingly inconsistent, and give
the historian unnecessary trouble — which is one
reason why history, serious, conscientious history, is
so xminteresting. The serious historian, who has to
make some sort of a decent j ob out of his delineation
of the character of, say, Henry V. or Queen Eliza-
beth, must start with some good working assumption
to the effect that they had a character to begin with,
and he must try to pretend that they were consistent
within decent limits, and conformed to the rules laid
down for the type. At the last resort he may de-
scribe them as being " contradictory characters," but
this is a mean evasion. The trouble which lies always
in wait for the historian has been put aside once and
for all by the dramatist and novelist. They recognize
the fact that were they to take their characters from
average human beings, their plays and books would
be derided. It has become a convention to draw the
exceptions, the consistent characters, good, bad, or
indifferent, who do exist in actual life, rare birds to
be brought down at sight by the literary hunter. For
the rest the depictor of types may study at first hand,
preferably not too closely ; afterwards he may bring
his imagination to bear upon his creations, he may
use his genius to make his characters consistent
enough to pass muster as human beings in the eyes of
his readers. But credible, at least, his characters
must be.

394 JACOB STAHL

To Jacob, Mrs. Wilmot appeared fairly incredible.
He had seen her from a certain point of view, and her
admission of a marked penchant for his society — to
put it modestly — did not fully harmonize with his
picture of her. He had to fall back on adjectives of
amazement — he had told her plainly that she was
wonderful, and she had not appeared to resent the
implication.

To Cairns, man of experience that he was, the ex-
planation was simple enough. Stahl was a good-
looking man, and she had fallen in love with him. No
more than a charcoal sketch this, however; get
Cairns in the mood, and he might consent to give a
little value to half-tones. " Lonely," he might say,
" and past thirty, even a pretty woman, if she has to
work for her living, may not be too particular in her
choice. Flattered, too, no doubt. Wonderful the
power of flattery on women. Stahl was down in the
dust before her."

To Deb, hero-worshipper and confidante, the thing
was explicable because she had an explanation at first
hand. " My dear — I don't know, I was swept off
my feet. It is one of those things one can't explain.
You know, from the very first moment I saw him, at
that reception, I wondered, ' Is that man coming
into my life.? ' I dare say I have given way to the
feeling, but why should n't I .? "

Deb echoes with a new touch of disapproval in
her voice : " Of course not ! My dear, why on earth
should n't you ? "

Mrs. Wilmot, not to be checked by any tone of
Deb's voice, reverted to her first phrase : " You don't
know what it is to be swept off your feet so com-
pletely ..."

" Oh ! my dear Lola, indeed I do ... "

" Not in the way / mean." Mrs. Wilmot was dra-

A PARENTHESIS 395

matic, she gave point to her statement by tightening
her grip on the elbow of her chair.

" I 've never been in love with any man., if that 's
what you mean, my dear." Deb was too polite to
sniff audibly, but she conveyed the impression of a
sniff so vividly that Mrs. Wilmot dropped her tragic
attitude for the moment, and said:

" You need n't be sniffy about it, dear, I 've told
you before anyone."

Deb understood well enough, though possibly she
doubted the seriousness of Mrs. Wilmot's intentions.
Deb had seen her friend " swept off her feet " on
other occasions.

The person who does not understand why Lola
Wilmot made such marked advances to Jacob Stalil
is a critical person with an inordinate passion for
labels. He does not figure in this story, and no
further description need be given of his habits, but
he has a drawer, or a glass jar, or a guard book,
into which he fits his specimens, and prominent among
his labels is one which bears the classification " ad-
venturess." This person has proved conclusively
that Mrs. Wilmot could not have fallen in love with
Jacob Stahl. For this critical person, busy among
his classifications, the label " adventuress " has a
very definite signification. The specimen is, infer-
entially, a bad woman with a past, striving to regain
a footing in society, or a bad woman with a past
pursuing her passion for badness, but always ready
to snap at the one and only bait which really appeals
to her — hard cash in sufficient quantities. She has,
it is true, the potentialities of an effective death-bed
repentance, and she may be checked in her badness
by the intervention of an " innocent child," the
more innocent and childlike the better. But to allow
an emotion for a nice-looking boy with a private in-

896 JACOB STAHL

come of £120 a year and no prospects in his pro-
fession to influence her life seriously, when she has
claims to beauty — " Pooh ! " says this critical per-
son, " a most inconsistent character," and he takes
down his cuttings, and exhibits the type " adven-
turess " in convincing print. It is useless to demon-
strate that Mrs. Wilmot is not an adventuress ac-
cording to his definition, he has made up his mind,
and you cannot argue with him.

There is one other person to take into account.
Her explanation to Deb should be compared criti-
cally, with her other explanations ; but these are so
various that they tend to confusion — one may stand
as an indication of the rest, it was made much later,
briefly, thus, " My confounded cussedness."

CHAPTER XXVI

MAKEIAGB
1.

That the course of true love never did run smooth is
an adage, the universal truth of which may be proved
by the evidence of romance. Indeed, the truth of the
adage was established from earliest times, — pace
the love-affair of Jacob and Rachel — even in the
polygamous community true love was hindered.
Laban was the ancestor of the modern commercially-
minded father of fiction ; the type remains, armed
with other, if no more effective, methods. From the
days of Laban onward, the pages of romance may
be searched in vain for the one grand exception.
Smoothness is of no account in romance, it stands for
the unromantic ; a fig for the love that never overrode
an obstacle, such love cannot be proved true, any
evidence afforded by biography notwithstanding.

But in this thing Jacob — the modem represent-
ative, not he of the bigamous proclivities — made
no application of the wide knowledge he had gained
from the readin,g of romance. He should, surely,
have argued that the love which ran smoothly could
not conceivably be true. He did not argue; he
drifted, blissfully. When we come to the practice of
life, as opposed to the exercise of theory necessitated
by the offer of a choice between alternatives, we are
little guided by the historic wisdom of the novelist.

Jacob had a perfectly blissful fortnight. He
dreamed at the office, saw Mrs. Wilmot every day,

JACOB STAHL

made progress in the small intimacies of love, listened
with respect to Cairns and Guy Latham, cursed the
intrusions of Deb with her banal commonplaces, and,
generally, floated on clouds of glory.

He never doubted that he was deeply and truly in
love. He had read of a test, and this one test he ap-
plied. " Did the beloved ever jar one's susceptibili-
ties, be it never so slightly," he had read, " she was
not the affinity." It was a psychic test, and made ap-
plication of the principle that in this great world there
was but one perfect mate for every man and woman.
It remained for every man or woman to seek the twin-
soul who would be recognizable by the test specified.
No time limit, however, was given for the occurrence
of the first " jar," and Jacob, finding none in the first
fortnight, was satisfied that the affinity was found.
His feelings differed in many ways from those he had
experienced when he had made love to Madeline, but
that was to be expected. Briefly — it was different.

Only once during that blissful fortnight did he ever
question the sincerity of his passion.

It was a Sunday evening, eight days after his dec-
laration. He had stayed to supper, and, Deb being
absent, he had remained on in Upper Wobum Place
till nearly eleven o'clock. When the last parting
had been made, he found himself walking through
Tavistock Square, conscious of a feeling of relief. He
wanted solitude, to think of his love-affair, dream
of it, glorify it into a vision of perfection, instead of
wanting to act it in the presence and with the help of
his affinity. The consciousness should have given him
pause, but it seemed such a small thing in comparison
with the wonders he was experiencing. It is true that
he had never suffered such an experience in the days
of Ashby Sutton ; there the desire was to be with
Madeline always, never to leave her ; but, again, that

MARRIAGE 399

was different — how and why he did not stop to
analyze. The inwardness of that feeling of relief
was explained by a condemnation of his own peculiari-
ties. He was dreaming again. Definitely this thing
must end, it was time for him finally to emerge into
the world of realities.

He soon learned that he was to receive very able
assistance in the emergence, and the knowledge was
gained at the cost of some loss of glory. He had to
learn that the clouds which had upborne him were
artificial ; and in process of deflation, moreover.

The day was once more a Sunday, the fortnight
was passed, a very quiet Sunday without visitors.
The engaged couple had time to discuss their own
affairs and prospects, a subject that had been treated
with scant attention so far. Lola was becoming
acquainted with the inwardness of the architectural
profession. To give point to his description, Jacob
picked out Bradley as an example of the difficulties
of progress towards private practice.

"Why don't you go in for competitions?" asked
Lola.

" It 's so utterly hopeless," replied Jacob.

" But why could n't you do what Mr. Bradley
did.? "

Jacob winced inwardly, but, remembering that he
was a hero in this house, and that heroes can do no
wrong, he struggled towards sincerity. A man of
Jacob's temperament seeks always to be loved for
his faults rather than for his virtues, though al-
ways he has an eye to an interpretation of those
faults at least as sympathetic as his own.

" No ! " he said ; " I have n't got Bradley's powers
of application."

" But how do you expect to begin In private
practice, then?" Lola's tone was not quite sympa-

400 JACOB STAHL

thetic. Jacob qua hero was a little inclined to re-
sent it.

" Influence, I suppose, is one way," he said. " One
ought to know as many people as possible. People
who may know other people who may be going to
build."

" And as a preliminary you have shut yourself up
for the past, how many years .? and known no one.
Oh ! my dear Jimmy."

" I suppose I 'm built that way." " Jimmy " was
still complacent.

" But you must n't be built that way. You must
wake up."

Jacob quite agreed with the theory of this pro-
nouncement, but he would have preferred that the
statement should have come from himself.

" Waking is a painful process, sometimes," he
said, striving for an acceptance of his faults.

Mrs. Wilmot's eyes narrowed, and her mouth — it
was not a good-tempered mouth — set firmly, with
the least possible projection of the under-lip, which
had none of the attractiveness of a pout. It would
have been obvious to Deb that Lola was recovering
her foothold.

" Oh ! my dear Jimmy, you will have to be shaken
if you talk like that."

There was no mistaking the definiteness of this
attitude. Jacob realized that it was time the role
of hero was put on one side, but he still looked for
sympathy.

" I suppose it 's a question of temperament," he
said, hesitating. " Of course, I realize that I must
do something, but ..." He left an opening for a
fond completion of his sentence. He had, in two
weeks, become used to fondness.

" You have n't the energy to rouse yourself."

MARRIAGE 401

** It is n't a question of energy, exactly." Jacob's
tone was argumentative, now. Positively he was
being bullied.

Lola judged her limit to have been reached for
this occasion. She came over to him and sat on a
footstool at his feet. " Oh ! my darling old dreamer,"
she said, " how are we ever to get married, if you
won't wake up ? "

" I will wake up, darling," responded Jacob, re-
pentant, " you must help me."

That was the first of many conversations on the
question of ways and means.

" Why don't you ask Mr. Bradley to help you? "
was one of Lola's suggestions.

" I don't know ! I don't care to, altogether," was
Jacob's answer.

" You must care to ! " was Lola's reply. The
clouds were becoming sagged; the process of defla-
tion distinctly perceptible.

" Must.'' " echoed Jacob, with a look of perplexity.
He had a rooted dislike to the word.

" Well, how on earth do you expect to get on if
you won't do the simplest thing? "

" N — yes," said Jacob, and then : " I don't quite
see what Bradley could do exactly."

" He might pass on some of his work to you. You
said he had more than he could manage."

" I don't expect he would do that."

" Why not ? You were a great friend of his."

" You see, I have n't got an office."

" Why not start one ? "

It may seem a trivial suggestion, but it set a ball
rolling that was to alter the whole course of Jacob's
life. He did not grasp the possibilities for a moment.

" Without any work in hand? " he asked, as
though that were final.

402 JACOB STAHL

" Oh ! my dear Jimmy " — Lola's tone was kind,
if emphatic — " you must see that you are arguing in
a vicious circle. You can't get work because you
have n't got an office. You can't start an office be-
cause you have n't got any work. That sort of thing
can go on for ever."

Jacob awoke to the fact that, according to precedent,
he was patiently awaiting the performance of a miracle.

" Well ! What do you suggest ? " His tone was
impatient, he appreciated his fiancee^s logic, but not
her attitude towards himself.

" Why should n't you start an office ? "

"And leave Morley's.? "

" You must make a beginning. You must show
initiative."

" Is n't it taking a tremendous risk.? "

" If you failed, you would be no worse off. You
could go back to Morley's or take some other
position."

The idea was beginning to take hold.

" I 've never thought of it before," he said, with
the first symptoms of enthusiasm he had displayed.

" Oh ! you dreamer ! " replied Lola.

They fell to the discussion of plans. It was all
so easy. Jacob had a balance of over £300 at his
bank; more than sufficient. Before he left that day
he had promised to call upon Bradley, and they had
decided to look about for suitable quarters for an
office — it was settled that the office was not to be in
the City. Why not an office and house combined.?
Then Jacob would not have to be away all day, when
they were married.

2.

The idea of independence, once formulated, began to
take an increasing hold on Jacob's mind. He was an

MARRIAGE 40S

amateur of life, unpractical, and lacking in ambition.
He regarded the idea from one point of view only —
it was a new adventure, and the more he thought of
it, the greater the possibilities it seemed to hold.
He allowed his imagination to run ahead of all proba-
bilities, and, meanwhile, he found material for dreams,
— the real basis he always looked for — in the work
of setting about the practical business that was
necessary.

At times he had qualms as to his qualifications.
There were many details of practical architecture
with which he was unacquainted. He was no judge
of materials, for instance; at least, not of actual
materials on the site — he had some theoretical knowl-
edge of faults to be avoided. He had copied speci-
fications for Mr. Baker, and he remembered vaguely
such facts as that timber was to be well-seasoned,
and " free from all defects, sap, shakes ; large, loose
or dead knots." When the qualms came he put him-
self through a mental examination, and was, gener-
ally, rather well satisfied as to the result. When he
found a self-imposed question that he could not an-
swer, he looked it up in his books on building con-
struction. He decided that when he had an office
of his own, he would have a practical library at hand
to which he could refer at all times. He bought sev-
eral books at once from Mr. Batsford's, and read
parts of them. It was all hopelessly amateurish, but
not notably more unpractical than much of the seri-
ous business of life which passes muster.

Fate was favouring him at this time — making
large promises, egging him on.

He had a very satisfactory interview with the great
Owen Bradley, whom he had not seen for more than
twelve months.

The great man was engaged, so said the clerk

404 JACOB STAHL

in the outer office, but he would take Mr. StahPs
name in, and he did, written on a piece of paper.
Jacob had forgotten his cards.

Bradley came out at once.

" My dear fellow, awfully glad to see you," he
said, " but I am checking a list of extras and omis-
sions with the builder and the quantity surveyor. Did
you want to see me about anything particular.'' "

" Yes, I did, rather," said Jacob. " But if ... "

" Let me think," interrupted Bradley. " Look
here, can you come round about half-past six? I
shall have finished then, and we can go and have
dinner somewhere."

" Thanks very much. Yes, I should like to."

A wonderful man, this Owen Bradley, so self-
confident, so certain in knowledge, so completely
efficient. Jacob thought of that reported examination
of the bill of extras and omissions. The builder
would get no certificate for unaccredited extras out
of Bradley, thought Jacob, but if J. L. Stahl, archi-
tect, was called upon to adjudicate such matters.'' —
he wondered if there were any work dealing more
particularly with this important subject.

At half-past six Bradley was " very nearly fin-
ished," and at a quarter-past seven he was actually
free. Jacob saw a man he judged to be the builder,
come out looking rather depressed.

"Was that your builder.''" he asked Bradley, as
they went down together to Bradley's club.

" Yes. That was Wilcox, the senior partner of
Wilcox and Wilcox, you know. They built the offices
at Birchester."

" He looked as if you 'd been taking it out of him,
rather."

" One must be pretty hard. It 's a question of
which of you gets in first. He wanted me to have

MARRIAGE 406

dinner with him, so I was very glad to have an
excuse."

" Does n't do, I suppose? "

Bradley shook his head. " One can't be too care-
ful," he said.

Jacob made a mental note that he must never in
any circumstances accept anything from a builder.

During dinner they spoke chiefly of technical mat-
ters. Jacob was genuinely interested in Bradley's
experience, and plied him with questions which Brad-
ley was not unwilling to answer. Later he even paid
his guest the compliment of saying:

" You seem to have got a better grip of practical
matters than you used to have."

This was in the smoking-room. It was an oppor-
tunity, and Jacob took it, somewhat shyly.

" Do you think so ? " he said. " I 'm glad, very
glad. The fact of the matter is, I 'm thinking of
starting in practice for myself."

" Good for you. What jobs have you got? "

Jacob blushed and explained. Incidentally he
broached the topic of his engagement, and received
congratulations .

" But about this office of yours ? " asked Bradley,
returning to essentials. " Is n't it rather a risk? "

" Nothing venture," suggested Jacob. " You see,
there 's no hope of getting any work until one has an
office."

" Quite so," assented Bradley. " But what about
prospects? You must at least have some prospects."

Jacob was uneasy. Bradley made it so difficult to
ask him for work.

" Well, I 'm trying to meet as many people as pos-
sible, you know," he said. " Mrs. Wilmot, my fiancee,
has a lot of friends, and we think . . ."

" Are they the right kind of friends ? " put in Brad-

406 JACOB STAHL

ley. " Friends who have the money and indination to
build? "

" One never knows," said Jacob, and then des-
perately: " I was wondering whether you ever had
an opportunity of — of passing on any jobs — little
jobs, of course, too small for you to bother about."

Bradley pushed his spectacles on to his forehead,
and looked out on to the twilight Embankment. It
was still early in July, and the lights in the smoking-
room were not turned on. Bradley was very short-
sighted, and when he wished to consider a question
he preferred the semi-obscurity afforded by partial
blindness.

Jacob sat silent awaiting a reply. He was not
short-sighted, and the picture of the Embankment, as
it appeared at that moment, was one of the memories
which always remained vivid to him.

" Yes," said Bradley at last, replacing his spec-
tacles and looking earnestly at Jacob, " I could and
I will."

" That 's awfully good of you, old chap. I should
be tremendously grateful."

" And ..." Bradley paused, he had not yet
spoken the thought which had caused his hesitation.
" And, if you are not sure about any technical mat-
ters, you 'd better refer them to me till you feel your
feet a bit."

This was a glorious report to bring to Lola. Jacob
could not wait till morning, and made a very late call
— it was after ten — at Upper Wobum Place.

" I like Mr. Bradley," was Lola's comment.

" He 's an awfully good sort," agreed Jacob with
enthusiasm.

" But why need you consult him ? Why are you
so pleased about that part of it.? "

" He 's had so much experience," said Jacob.

MARRIAGE 407

Lola looked at him, inquiringly. " My dear boy,"
she said, and this was the first time she had so ad-
dressed him, " you must learn to have more confidence
in yourself."

Jacob felt as he walked home that the fine edge of
his pleasure had been blunted. He would gain con-
fidence in time — hang it all, she need n't be always
lecturing him about it.

Fate was evidently in the mood, for on the Sunday
following the visit to Bradley, Cairns came in, very
bright and full of vigour. It seemed that he had
made a successful coup on the Stock Exchange, and
when he heard of his friend's new venture, he said at
once that he had always intended to build himself a
little place in the country — on the Chiltem Hills, or
Surrey, perhaps — and that now was the very time to
start.

Cairns had ideas about the construction of houses,
revolutionary ideas such as Jacob had never heard of.

" All this business of emptying slops, carrying
thera up and down stairs, and such nastinesses," said
Cairns, on the hearthrug in his favourite attitude,
" nothing of that sort in my house."

" But how . . . .? " began Jacob, taking the point
as being a personal one, though the remark had been
addressed to the company generally.

"How?" interrupted Cairns. "What could be
simpler? You architects, hke other professional men,
let your minds run in a groove. Now, why not fitted
basins with a tap? Why carry water about and spill
it all over the place? Once sanctify a thing by cus-
tom, it does n't matter how absurd the thing is, and
that thing has to stay. Wash my hands in a fixed

408 JACOB STAHL

basin, when I 've always been accustomed to one I
could knock over and break? Turn a tap to get
water, when I 've always been accustomed to struggle
with a great unwieldy jug that slopped the water all
over me when it was too full? Oh! no! not for
worlds ! Why, my dear fellow, my father never had
a tap or a fixed basin in his house, and he lived to
eighty-seven. No, thanks, not for me, I like the good
old-fashioned methods. Good God ! it 's wonderful,
simply wonderful."

Cairns had lived in Australia for many years, and
his expletives were sometimes rather forcible. He
had many other ideas about the designing of houses
which he explained fully, while Jacob made mental
notes, but he did not on this occasion condescend to
any practical details beyond the suggestion that
Jacob should get out some plans. The accommoda-
tion even was not settled, as when this point was
brought forward. Cairns launched forth on the sub-
ject of hospitality, and explained how he should keep
open house, not only to his friends and acquaintances,
but to certain waifs of the hedgerows. Cairns was in
great form that afternoon; incidentally, however,
Jacob did learn that Cairns was a widower with three
children. It seemed that this house of his was going
to be quite an important job.

Lola was enthusiastic about it after Cairns had
left, but she had one practical suggestion to make.
"Don't wait for him to bring the subject up again.
He told you to get out some plans. Could n't you
start some sketches at once? "

" I 've got absolutely no information," pleaded
Jacob, who had been delighted at Cairns' suggestions,
but was quite willing to postpone any actual work
until his office was an accomplished fact.

" Oh I you 've got heaps of information," said Lola.

MARRIAGE 409

" Did n't you listen to all his ideas ? He is so
original."

" M — yes," said Jacob. " But I don't think his
ideas, some of them, are very practical. What about
that annexe for tramps, for instance .^ "

" I should n't bother about that," replied Lola.
" He '11 probably have forgotten all about it by next
Sunday."

4.

Lastly, Eric turned up with practical assistance.
Eric's assistance, when given, was always practical.

Lola had not been introduced yet. In fact, it was
not until after the scheme of the private office had
been mooted, that she learned of Eric's existence.

" Have n't you any friends or relations ? " she had
asked, when they had been going through a list of
possible people who might be of use.

" Oh ! There 's Eric, of course," Jacob had ad-
mitted, and the necessary explanation had followed.

The conclusion of it had been an implied rebuke
administered in a kind form.

" Oh ! you dreamer ! Fancy dropping such a
brother as that. Why, he must know heaps of people,
useful people ! Darling, when will you learn to be
just a little practical.'' Have you never even written
to tell your brother that you are engaged.'' "

Jacob had to confess that he had neither seen nor
written to Eric for quite a long time, months, many
months.

" He '11 think you 're ashamed of me," said Lola.

" Oh ! Great Scott, no, he could n't think that.
I '11 write to-night," said Jacob.

Mrs. Eric left cards during the week. Lola was
out. " I will write to Mr. Cairns and the others," she

^# JACOB STAHL

said to Jacob, the same evening, " and we '11 go over
to Hampstead on Sunday."

Jacob wondered what Eric and his wife would think
of Lola, not what Lola would think of Eric and his
wife. It was a curious Inversion, the significance of
which did not occur to him.

For once Jacob had the felicity of being the Im-
portant person In the West Hampstead menage.

Lola was a social success. She seemed to Impress
the Eric Stahls by her ease and manner. The conver-
sation was kept away from technical subjects, and in
all others Mrs. Wilmot was quite capable of main-
taining her superiority. Mrs. Eric drew her out on
the subject of art, and Lola on this topic was obvi-
ously the teacher, and not the taught.

It is true that there was a slight chill when Eric
took his brother off to the study for the usual smoke.

" Who was her first husband ? " was the inevitable
question.

" I have n't the least idea. I have never mentioned
the subj ect," was Jacob's answer ; as an afterthought
he added : " I 've an idea that it was not a very happy
marriage."

" Was he well off .? " asked Eric.

" Very, I believe."

" But Mrs. Wilmot has no private means."

" No — none."

" How do you suppose that came about ? "

Jacob shrugged his shoulders. " I can imagine
possible reasons," he said. " He may have been living
up to his Income, for Instance."

" About this office of yours," said Eric later ; " do
you think prospects justify you In taking it.-* "

" Absolutely ! " returned Jacob, and gave a glow-
ing account of Cairns' and Bradley's promises.

" H'm ! " was Eric's comment, after he had put

MARRIAGE 411

various questions. " Bradley seems all right — I 'm
not so sure about Cairns. On the Stock Exchange
they are millionaires one day, and paupers the next.
However, I think I can put a little work in your way.
It 's not a big job, but every little helps."

It transpired that Eric had an option on a small
property of something over an acre in Putney, a
neighbourhood which was not then completely smoth-
ered in bricks and mortar. " The house is rather a
wreck, at present," explained Eric, " but the garden
will be delightful. Doris and I feel rather suffocated
here, sometimes. I should be glad if you would go
down and see the place, test the drains, and report
on it. Professionally, of course. I expect you will
find that we shall have to spend three or four hundred
pounds on the structure. We have n't absolutely
decided, but I think it is probable we shall take it.
Doris seems keen on it, and it will be her speculation.
As a speculation, by the way, there 's little doubt that
it will be profitable. Property is going up in those
suburbs, as I dare say you know."

Jacob did not know, but he nodded with assurance.

" Everything seems to be coming our way," he said
to Lola, on the way back to Upper Woburn Place,
but he was very distinctly doubtful as to his capacity
for testing the drains and estimating the repairs
necessary at the house in Putney. He had had no
experience in that kind of work. He would have
found it much easier to design a hospital.

But all this work which was pouring in upon him
necessitated hurrying forward the matter of taking
an office. He must leave Mr. Morley at once. They
decided this that very Sunday evening. And there
was a house to let in Bloomsbury Square. £130 a
year was a big price, of course, but with such pros-
pects it was not too much. It was no good to take

41« JACOB STAHL

too small a place, and then be obliged to move again.
They need not furnish the top floor at first. It was
decided to inspect that house.

Only one thing more, the delicate question of a
date for their marriage. Why should they wait?
Lola was very sweet about it. When they had agreed
that the end of August was not an impossible time,
and that the ceremony should be a very quiet one,
Lola said, " You can leave all those stupid arrange-
ments to me, darling, you will have your hands very
full."

Jacob agreed with this last remark, and after
making the necessary expostulations, he consented
to the unusual arrangement of leaving all negotia-
tions to the future bride.

"You're sure you don't mind.''" he asked more
than once.

"Quite sure. Of course not! Why should I?"

Really, she was very unselfish.

6.

Jacob was not inquisitive, but he had a genuine
eagerness for knowledge, and one department of
knowledge that he explored whenever a chance af-
forded, was that which contained the human facts
of life. He liked to hear real stories of individual
experience, and more than once he gave Lola an open-
ing to confide something of her past history, not
because it might in any way concern himself, but be-
cause he thought it might be interesting. But Lola
never responded. The only answer he had ever re-
ceived was " I can't speak of that time," and she
had tightened her grasp on the arm of her chair
with exactly the same gesture as she had used when
talking to Deb. It gave the eifect, this gesture, of

MARRIAGE 413

the necessity for great self-restraint ; those whitened
knuckles, the tensity of the whole attitude, implied
that the speaker was on the verge of some outbreak
of grief, that she must succumb if she did not keep
a very firm hold of herself. Her eyes, too, looked as
if they might, in another moment, brim with tears.
With it all there was something chastened in the look
and pose, something which might have been expressed
in words such as, " I have been through the mill, I
have suffered unspeakably, but I can go on — I am
not beaten." Jacob was much affected on this occa-
sion, and had the feeling that he had been rather
brutal in putting too pointed a question.

He did not, however, scent any mystery, then ; he
was not looking for mystery, but he thought of these
things in his own rooms sometimes, and sometimes he
speculated as to what the trouble could have been.
Had her husband been a brute? In some undeter-
mined way that was the impression he had received.

Another curious thing was that among all Mrs.
Wilmot's many acquaintances, there was none who
had known her for more than three years at the most.
Deb, with three years, seemed to have established a
record. Yet, at times, Lola referred, casually, to
people she had known in earlier years, people who
seemed to have occupied more important positions
in the social world than those members of the semi-
Bohemian circle who appeared on Sunday afternoons.

" Don't you ever see any of those people, now? "
he had asked on one occasion, when she had been
speaking of older friends, and Lola had shrugged
her shoulders. " I 've no time to keep in with them,
now I have to work for my living," had been her
reply. The answer did not seem quite satisfac-
tory, when Jacob added it to his other causes for
speculation.

4f14 JACOB STAHL

Then, once, when thej had been buying furniture
together for their new house in Bloomsbury Square,
there had been an incident.

They were walking down Oxford Street, in high
spirits, both very eager on the game of bargain-
hunting, matching their knowledge and skill against
those of antique furniture-dealers who spent their
whole lives in defending themselves against the cun-
ning of just such customers as these.

They stopped to look in at a window.

" I say, that 's rather a jolly gate-table," said
Jacob, pointing eagerly. " I wonder how much they
want for that. Shall we go in and . . ."

He stopped abruptly, for Lola had suddenly laid a
hand on his arm, a hand that gripped him tightly
enough to hurt.

"What's the matter?" he asked, and, turning to
her, he saw that her face had grown very white. She
was not looking at him, but at a tall, broad-shoul-
dered man with a brown moustache, who had been
gazing into the same shop-window. In her eyes was
a look of fear and appeal, the look of the trapped
animal facing its giant trapper.

Jacob turned hastily towards the stranger, the
first thing in his protecting mind was that the big
man had in some way insulted Lola.

" Oh ! come away." Lola's tone was urgent.

" But . . ." remonstrated Jacob.
Lola was biting her lip, her grip on Jacob's
arm was compelling; she positively dragged him
away.

Jacob, still reluctant, looked back over his shoul-
der. The tall man was watching them, smiling; a
cold, sarcastic smile.

" What 's the matter, darling.? "

*' Wait till we get home," she said.

MARRIAGE 415

When they were back in Upper Wobum Place, the
explanation was not entirely satisfactory.

" It was dreadfully silly of me," Lola said, " but
that man was so exactly like — like Edgar."

" Your husband ? " asked Jacob.

She nodded. " It absolutely appalled me for a
moment," she said after an interval.

" You, you could n't have — cared for him very
much? " said Jacob.

" Hated him ! " she replied in a low tone, with a
vehemence and viciousness that startled Jacob.

The incident closed tenderly. Jacob came over to
her. " Do you know, I am rather glad to think that
you did n't care for him very much," he said.

" Dear thing," replied Lola, and they finished the
day in the manner of lovers.

It was afterwards that Jacob reverted to the ex-
planation. It accounted for everything except the
man's smile ; it had been a smile of understanding.

Lastly, Jacob could not help speculating some-
times as to the inwardness of the relations between
Lola and her mother, Mrs. Fane. Now that Lola
was to be married again, the earlier reason assigned,
that Mrs. Fane disapproved of her daughter's method
of earning a livelihood, had surely lost its cogency.
Certainly it had been decided that, for a time, Lola
should continue her work, and add to their small in-
come, but if she were married there could no longer
be any question of impropriety. Jacob had the im-
pression — all his talks with Lola on this subject
had been so indefinite — that Mrs. Fane was, per-
haps, old-fashioned, not abreast with the times which
had accepted the independent woman. Mrs. Fane
might disapprove of a widowed Lola, living alone,
and earning a livehhood by what doubtless appeared
to her mother as strange means, but — Jacob went

416 JACOB STAHL

back over the old ground. It was, at least, odd that
Lola had not even written to her mother.

All these causes for speculation might have keened
Jacob to a sense of the necessity for resolute inquiry,
a decided and ruthless cross-examination of Lola.
There were two reasons why that stage of inquiry
was never reached, ignoring the fact that, had the
stage ever been reached, Jacob would never have
had the determination to conduct such a cross-
examination.

The first reason was that he did not think clearly
or consecutively. If he had written down his causes
for speculation and studied them, he might have been
roused to a condition of more potent wonder, per-
haps of anxiety. But his thought was formless, a
series of disconnected pictures that took shape and
colour according to the mood of his imagination,
and not according to the influence of any desire for
logical sequence. Such facts as he had were not com-
pared, collated ; they were isolated save in so far as
he did press them imaginatively into one all-embrac-
ing enclosure. This enclosure figures the second
reason.

It was by way of being an inclusive explanation,
thus : — Lola had been very unhappy in her first
marriage; she had suffered, terribly; she wished
therefore to forget all the circumstances. Under
such conditions Jacob, also, would have wished to
put all unpleasant associations behind him, would
have struggled to forget. Mrs. Fane was included
as a circumstance; it was possible that she had ar-
ranged Lola's first marriage. Mrs. Fane was prob-
ably an unsympathetic woman (damning descrip-
tion), and had sided with the late Edgar Wilmot —
of odious memory.

MARRIAGE 417

6.

During the second week in August Jacob received
his customary half-yearly dividend for £61 lis. 9d.
— less income-tax — and it occurred to him that he
might as well take out his pass-book and see how he
stood in account with his bank. He had taken the
house in Bloomsbury Square on a three-years' agree-
ment from the end of September. As a consideration,
he had been allowed occupancy from the half-quarter ;
the consideration on the landlord's side had been re-
lief from doing any structural repairs. The agree-
ment was not with the Bedford estate, but with the
leaseholder. A sum had been allowed for redecora-
tion, but it was quite inadequate to cover the cost of
Lola's scheme, a scheme which was nevertheless being
carried out.

Jacob set himself to calculation. There were so
many items. House furniture (they had adhered to
their resolution not to furnish the top floor), ofiice
furniture and fittings, the extra expense on the deco-
rator's estimate, lawyers' fees, personal expenses
(Lola liked him to dress well, and he had opened a
new account with a West-End tailor), the expense
of the forthcoming honeymoon (they had decided on
Paris), and his wedding present to Lola, a cheque
for £50, to say nothing of a few minor presents that
he had given her and the engagement and wedding
rings.

Jacob found his balance, counting his dividend,
amounted to £271. That figure astonished him, for
it intimated that he must have spent just over £100
in the past six weeks — including that wedding pres-
ent, of course — that was a big item. He set him-
self to estimating the future cost of the other items
he had enumerated. At first he estimated liberally,

418 JACOB STAHL

then he came to the conclusion that there must be
some mistake, and went through the items again with
more care and greater regard to accuracy. Finally,
a third time. He had intended to pay all the ac-
counts at once, but he saw now that he must recon-
sider that intention, for, according to the final esti-
mate, such a proceeding would leave him overdrawn
some £25 or so at the Bank. And he and Lola would
have ordinary living expenses for six months, would
have to pay wages and the first quarter's rent due at
Christmas, to say nothing of rates and taxes, and
Lord knows what else; and at the end of the six
months there would be a dividend of £61 lis. 9d. —
less income-tax. Jacob came to the conclusion that
£300 was not such a big sum as he had imagined. He
also came to the conclusion that there was nothing
for it but to sell a certain amount of stock. His in-
vestments were earning 31/4 P^J" cent. — well, he
might sell stock to the value of, say, £650 ; that
would reduce his income by the odd £20 a year, which
would make practically no difference. By Jove ! he
would have to work. Meanwhile, he wrote to his so-
licitors at Pelsworthy, and requested them to set
about the sale of the stock. This done, he felt greatly
relieved. With another £650 at his back he could
face the future in a hopeful spirit ; by the time that
was spent, he would be making a decent income. One
more conclusion — he would not worry Lola with all
these financial details. She had never questioned
him about money matters, why should he trouble
her.? She had had trouble enough in her life. Fur-
thermore, she might not approve of his selling that
stock.

His last thoughts before going to sleep turned on
the necessity for practical work. There was that job
of Eric's and the plans for Cairns, neglected for the

MAKRIAGE 419

moment in the rush of so many immediate concerns.
But Eric and Cairns had both understood his explana-
tions. There was no violent hurry. Eric and his
wife had decided to buy the Putney property, it is
true, but they had no intention of moving before the
spring. But when Jacob came back from his honey-
moon, he would have to put his back into it, and, by
Jove ! he would. Everything being thus comfortably
settled and arranged for, Jacob slept the sleep of the
consciously righteous. He was adventuring right out
on to the sea of life, now, and he found the promise
of the voyage most inspiriting.

7.

This chapter of Jacob's experience closes with a
farewell word of advice and the shadow of events
forthcoming.

The farewell was to the offices of Mr. Ridout
Morley at the end of July. The staff subscribed to
give him a wedding present, but that was nothing
but an embarrassment. The thing he remembered
was the unexpected good-bye of old Eckholt. Jacob
had always regarded the old man as a pessimist, he
had expected to hear him depreciate any promise of
success in Jacob's enterprise, but instead came a few
words of kindly advice, beginning:

" Well, I 'm sure I wish you every 'appiness, Mr.
Stahl," and then : " The great thing in practice, in
my experience, is never to give yourself away. So
long as you stick to it and take trouble, things can't
go very far wrong, and at the worst it 's only the
builder as knows. Keep in with your builder, and
he '11 see you through, even if he does make a little
extra out of it."

Jacob shook hands warmly with old Eckholt and

420 JACOB STAHL

thanked him, the advice seemed good. It was only
the genius, such as Bradley, who could afford to be
so independent with builders, and never accept so
much as a dinner from them.

The shadow was unrealized at the time by reason
of Jacob's ignorance of certain technicalities.

Jacob signed the certificate first, and after Lola
had, also, signed, the copy was taken and handed to
the bride, who took it and stowed it away hurriedly
in a little bag she was carrying.

From the church (they had been married by special
licence), they drove straight to the very tea-rooms
in which they had first arrived at an understanding.
They had taken the whole of the smoking-room for
the afternoon, and had invited their friends thither
for the little reception which was to mark the event.
In the cab Jacob said,

" May I look at the certificate ? 1 've never seen
one."

Lola hesitated and looked at him, a question in her
eyes, the shadow of a determination on her face.

" Yes ! You may — if you like," she said slowly.

As Jacob looked at the certificate, his wife watched
him closely, came a little nearer to him, slipped her
hand through his arm. Her face was pale, but the
determination was evident in the set of her under-lip.

" I say, how quaint ! " said Jacob. " Why are you
described as ' single and unmarried '.'' "

" Because I 've been married before," rephed Lola
quietly.

" But why not a widow.? "

There was silence between them for a moment, and
then Jacob folded up the certificate with a laugh and
gave it back. " Oh ! Lord ! these legal Johnnies do
find some quaint phrases," he said.

The shadow of the determination on Lola's face

MARRIAGE 421

was passing away. " Yes — they are funny," she
said, and then, " Don't mention it to anybody."

" Why not.? "

" It 's a superstition, that 's all."

" Oh ! all right. Of course I won't. I say, do you
realize that we are actually married? "

Lola heaved a long, deep sigh of relief. " I am
beginning to realize it, darling," she said.

The little reception was quite a success. Cairns
was in great form, and had a remarkable argument
with Eric on the question of land-nationalization.

CHAPTER XXVn

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED
1.

The importance of to-morrow cannot be over-esti-
mated. In the animal world there are but fore-
shadowings of that wonderful conception ; and those
are gross — a watering at the mouth and eager eyes
induced by a sight of the quarry ; nevertheless, signs
of an imagination, a present enjoyment of pictured
satisfaction that may never be attained. In that
primitive anticipation lies the germ of the wonderful
to-morrow — it is only a question of extension. To-
morrow, be it noted, contains all. To span the gap
of a period of unconsciousness is to scale the fences
of eternity ; to live in the to-morrow is to live beyond
the bounds. But the animal, dripping saliva, points
a tedious moral ; in two words — leap quickly. It is
the practical application, you must flesh your dreams,
oh ! dreamer.

The last cigarette, smoked in complacency, while
Mrs. James (or Jacob) Stahl is being allowed the
twenty minutes of solitude she demands to prepare
herself for the luxury of sleep, this last, deliberate
cigarette has been dedicated to to-morrow, without
ritual or determinations, almost without intention.
As an institution, it began on the very first night
in Bloomsbury Square, when a slightly harrowed
Jacob solemnly put away from him thoughts of
small disagreements, of incapacities involved in
the testing of drains, and all such insistent facts

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 423

of life, and jSoated in a dream eternity of unrealizable
to-morrows.

This last cigarette is Jacob's nepenthe, and has a
sequel which is not yet.

His nepenthe enabled him on this first night in
Bloomsbury Square to forget the inferences of a
three weeks' honeymoon in Paris, inferences that had
deepened the gloom of the train journey from New-
haven that morning, and had been strengthened when
the Stahls arrived at a home that had not been pre-
pared for their reception ; or not prepared to the
satisfaction of Mrs. Stahl; the effect is the same.

Certainly the home-coming had been inauspicious.

Arrangements had been made which implicated the
agency of a still faithful Deb, in connection with a
retained charwoman and a promised cook and house-
maid, all engaged to put in an appearance some three
days before the Saturday that heralded the return
of master and mistress. But the cook proved faith-
less — he was never heard of again — and what the
charwoman and the housemaid could have been doing
for those three days, it puzzled a tired but still dy-
namic Mrs. Stahl to tell.

" Everything 's filthy," was her pronouncement,
and she persistently disregarded Jacob's expression
of optimism which embodied the spirit of the amateur
actor's certainty that " it would be all right on the
night." Indeed, the night was come, and even the
phenomenon of an evaporated cook, however amazing,
did not excuse the leaving of a dustpan on one of
the drawing-room chairs. " Everything 's filthy,"
Mrs. Stahl had repeated, when the new housemaid
had been summoned upstairs, and a demonstration
had been made with an indignant forefinger on the
mahogany of the beautiful revolving bookcase, the
gift of Mr. and Mrs. Eric Stahl. That one could

424 JACOB STAHL

write one's name in the dust was demonstrated con-
clusively, and the fiery zigzag executed by Lola,
conveying the idea of a lighted and exploding cracker,
may have stood as a symbol for the autograph of the
indignant house-mistress.

Jacob, on the hearthrug, with the reminiscences of
a September crossing from Dieppe still strong upon
him, had wondered how the housemaid would take it,
what the housemaid would think. As a woman, this
housemaid was not unattractive, dark-eyed and dark-
haired, but these attractions seemed to weigh not at
all with her mistress, who regarded the maid, evi-
dently, in the light of an inefficient machine — the ap-
pearance of the machine in this particular application
was beside the point.

The housemaid had a spirit, too.

** I dusted it this morning, mum."

" Before you swept the room, or after? " This
with intense scorn.

The maid had bridled, but she stood convicted of
having progressed by an illogical sequence, " I 'm
sure, if I don't give satisfaction . . ."

" Don't be impertinent ! " Lola had blazed, and
Jacob had cleared his throat, but before he could
interpose the maid had gone. " Bounced out of the
room and slammed the door," reported Lola, to Deb's
amazement. Deb had thought her a " nice, willing
girl, if not clever."

To be faced with a household without a cook, and
with a maid fully conscious of the fact that she would
leave at the end of the month, was a hard beginning
— certainly inauspicious.

Jacob had been hot and uncomfortable. After the
housemaid had bounced and slammed, pointing the
last detonation of a very capable firework, he had
been uncomfortable but pacificatory, anxious to re-

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 425

move impressions — but the smell of gunpowder
remained. Doubtless he might have proved more
successful with the maid, but no opportunity had
offered of using his influence in that direction. All
this had happened before breakfast. It was the dis-
tinct culmination of honeymoon relations, and even
honeymoon relations had not been all-powerful.
There had been times when an active bride, intoxi-
cated with Paris shop-windows, had resented the lassi-
tude and lack of enthusiasm displayed by a husband
not over-interested in the jewellers' exhibitions in the
Rue de la Paix. On one such occasion the word " in-
dolent " had come to the surface. It is not a word
used to designate the heroic.

These things explain the need for nepenthe. That
last, dehberate cigarette becomes a ritual; worship
to the great god of dreams, the creator of all-blissful
and perfectly impossible to-morrows.

The three years that followed the return to Blooms-
bury Square, were years of development, but the
story of them is not to be told in detail. Here and
there a scene stands out, representing a milestone,
perhaps ; here and there is a scar to be accounted
for, but the intervals that mark long, slow progress,
intervals of months or a year, these must be passed
by, only their influence is to be remembered.

According to precedent, it was the early days of
married life that were most full of significant detail.
There was, for instance, a scene that pointed the set
of the road which these two were to travel, a scene
that occurred three weeks after the return from the
honeymoon.

The Sunday " at homes " were resumed in the new

426 JACOB STAHL

quarters, on a larger scale. Printed cards were sent,
dropped on to the breakfast-tables of the remotest
acquaintances, business acquaintances of Lola's, ac-
quaintances of Jacob's whom he never thought to see
again ; it was a hunt for names among the byways
and hedges, but with a difference — there were to be
no scallywags, the byways must be select as Curzon
Street ; the hedges were those of private gardens, and
the hunt was conducted on the garden side.

That third Sunday had been a success in its public
aspect. " I say, what a crowd ! " remarked Jacob.

Lola — just returned to the drawing-room after
speeding the departure of the last straggler — shut
the door with decision.

" Your manners are simply appalling," was her
reply.

Jacob, serenely unconscious of offence, was too
astonished for words. He looked his amazement,
trying to catch the eye of a wife, who lighted a
cigarette with unnecessary vigour, threw the match
into the fire, picked up a book, walked angrily across
the room, sat down and began to read, all without a
single glance in his direction.

An intense silence followed, during which the turn-
ing of a page of Lola's book — and she seemed to be
reading incredibly fast — sounded like the crepita-
tion of musketry.

" I have n't the least notion what you mean ? " He
was somewhat afraid of the sound of his own voice.

The intermittent musketry practice terminated with
a volley — the book was slammed with a horrible crash.

" Well, I think it 's about time you learned, then ! "

" Learned what.'' "

" You leave me to wait on everyone, while you stick
in a comer with Mona Fermor, and never stir a
finger." The answer had the air of being consequent

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 427

on her first complaint, the intervals of hush and of
question and answer had been obliterated evidently;
but to give point to the accusation, she closed on the
keynote " Your manners are simply appalling."

Now, Jacob had been trying to be polite. He had
picked out Miss Fermor and tried to entertain her,
because he had seen her sitting neglected in a corner.
He did not care for Miss Fermor, her Grecian nose
made no more appeal to him than her Rossetti mouth,
and her conversation bored him. His attentions to
Miss Fermor were by way of being a noble act of self-
sacrifice, and ten minutes had marked the limit of his
renunciation. Furthermore, Lola had been sur-
rounded with male helpers in addition to Deb. Every
man, with the exception of Guy Latham, had been
giving assistance. Jacob had a sense of justice, he
was willing to admit a fault, but he resented blame
when his intention had been innocent.

" I don't think you are quite fair," he began, and,
neglecting a sound of contempt from Lola, which was
more nearly a snort than anything, he went on : "I
did n't know you wanted me to help you."

" Have n't you the least idea of manners.? Surely
you must know that it is n't usual for the host to
wedge himself up in a comer, and let his wife wait on
everyone." This interruption to Jacob's speech was
tempestuous.

Jacob was still puzzled. He could n't understand
the reason for the outbreak. " But you had Cairns,
and Leigh-Weston and Snell and all the others to
help you," he persisted.

" Oh ! can't you understand that you were the
host — that it was your proper place to entertain
people. . . ."

" I was entertaining Miss Fermor. . . ."

" Yes, you need n't tell me that."

428 JACOB STAHL

" She was one of our guests."

" So far as you were concerned, she might have
been the only one."

" Oh ! come, that is n't true." Jacob inevitably
took the wrong line of defence, that sense of justice
urging him. " I certainly did not talk to her for
more than ten minutes."

" Don't be a fool ! "

" Certainly not more than ten minutes," repeated
Jacob.

" Oh ! you make me sick. Why tell lies about it ?
You know perfectly well that you hardly spoke to
anyone else."

" Oh ! rot ! " exclaimed Jacob, with vehemence.

" You need n't shout at me, though I suppose I
might have expected you would ; you seem to have no
conception of the instincts of a gentleman."

She had been trying to wound him, deliberately,
and, now, she had succeeded. His face grew hot and
his lips trembled, but he held himself in; he paused
for a moment, and then made for the door. He did
not mean to slam it, certainly not so hard, but the
thing happened, and nearly drowned the final sen-
tence : " And it is quite time you learned."

Supper was conducted in horrible silence. Jacob
preferred to eat his cold beef without mustard, sooner
than ask Lola to pass him that condiment. He felt it
an act of daring when he asked her in as level a voice
as possible, if she would have any more beef. The
temperature of her tone in replying might have kept
the beef fresh for a voyage.

After supper they read ; that is to say, Jacob sat
with an open book held in front of him, and mechani-
cally scanned page after page, but the sense of the
words never penetrated to his brain. He was going
over and over the scene of the afternoon, and when he

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 429

remembered a former apotheosis — that " One would
never have known " — he was almost ready to choke.
He endured it for an hour, and then he let the book
fall in his lap.

Lola was looking at him with a smile. . . .
" You might know what a jealous little beast I am,"
was the explanation she offered.

" But, Lola darling, Miss Termor of all people. I
can't stand the woman."
" You looked so absorbed."
" I expect I was bored to extinction."
" But, anyway, you ought to have helped me with
the tea."

" I 'm sorry. I won't forget next time."
Yet he was glad when the reconciliation was over,
he was glad when she went to bed and left him to his
last, deliberate cigarette. He paused before lighting
it to reflect on her thinness. She was not a satisfac-
tory person to — to nurse, and she had no passion,
she was not reciprocal, she did n't stir him, she . . .
He realized what he was thinking, and lighted his
cigarette hastily. It was curious that his dreams that
night were of Madeline; a slightly improved Made-
line, who walked with him through an impossible
to-morrow.

3.

He had told Lola about Madeline, in the early days,
in that first blissful fortnight. After that first seri-
ous quarrel, he had good cause to regret the indis-
cretion. His often-repeated, " I was a fool to tell
her ; good Lord, I was a fool ! " represents a futility,
for even as he protested his foolishness, he knew with
certainty that he would tell again in similar circum-
stances, that it would be impossible for him to refrain
from telling.

430 JACOB STAHL

The question had been direct; asked if there had
ever been another woman in his life, his reply had,
necessarily, been in the affirmative. There were a
dozen reasons for admission, and only one for denial,
and that one was unrealized by him, though he may
have felt a moment's doubt as to his wisdom in
confessing.

The reasons for confession were manifold, but two
will serve. The first was his difficulty in the telling
of an unprepared lie; it came harder to him, now,
than it did in the Ashby Sutton days. In those days
there had been other motives. An honourable lie to
defend another person seemed admirable, and even a
lie which involved ingenuity became endowed with
qualities, it had the attractiveness of literature.
Faced with a frank question demanding the answer
" Yes " or " No," if he had lied, his " No » would have
had the full significance of " Yes."

The other reason was one of vanity. To confess
a blameless life would have seemed to him a confession
almost shameful, certainly derogatory. He envied
the man who was adored of women. He figured the
attractions of such a man as essentially virile, and was
the more ambitious to win the flattery of adoration,
because he believed conscientiously, and without self-
deception, that he had none of the qualities admired
by the other sex. It is evident that in the first flush
of success, when he had found a woman to administer
the flattery he had yearned for, he could not have
made an admission which would, in his opinion, have
lowered him in the eyes of a woman. His confession
of early conquest had been, indeed, a boast, and the
facts had been subtly transfigured; an aspect, this,
of the ingenious, constructive lie which was not diffi-
cult. Of Miss Mason and her kind he had not spoken
— fortunately, no question had been asked — there

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 431

was nothing admirable in these things, there had been
no conquest.

Moreover, Madeline was the daughter of a baro-
net, and was, now, a Countess. This was to brag,
indeed.

He had been a fool, there was no denying it, but
one reason for bitterness, albeit a contradiction, was
not known to him. Lola had not believed him. That
there had been something, she believed, but not all
he had boasted. Lola Wilmot was a student of
society, and the name of the bewildering Lady Paign-
ton was well-known to her. Madeline was a famous
beauty, and she had a reputation. (In the clubs men
wondered why Paignton stood it.) " Not a nice
woman," would have been Deb's verdict, but Lola had
a sneaking admiration for so splendid a sinner, Lola's
own defections having been by no means splendid.
Over all, there shone the glory of the coronet which
imparts a special virtue not corruptible by immoral-
ity. In Lola's mind there could be no connection in
thought between Madeline, Countess of Paignton,
whose amours knew no limit of ambition, and Jacob
Stahl, sometime architect's assistant, whose father
had been something in the City ; — the old disguise
had served to cover the shameful admission that Her-
mann Stahl had been a mere commercial traveller.
Lola Wilmot had taken too much for granted before
she committed herself, and afterwards, perhaps, it
had been a case of faute de mieux, complicated by that
*' confounded cussedness."

These things have a bearing on future quarrels,
but not so great a bearing as Lola's great coup de
main. It was a master-stroke, this, which evidenced
great capabilities, genuine talent in the misrepresen-
tation of facts, a genius for the comprehension of
character. It put a weapon in Lola's hands that

4S« JACOB STAHL

quelled and subdued Jacob, a master weapon of dia-
bolical ingenuity.

4.

This weapon came into use almost by accident.

It was at the end of October, when they had been
married some two months, that the great and never-
to-be-forgotten scene was enacted.

Jacob had been reading a novel, a harmless book
enough, with an excellent moral, but the author with
a commendable eye for realism had explained for his
own purposes the signification of a phrase which he
had occasion to use. It was no less a phrase than
that used in our church registers (the lay official is
more candid) to describe the condition of divorced
persons, namely, " Single and unmarried." The novel-
ist had used it as a heading for one of his chapters.

They were sitting in the drawing-room after dinner.
When Jacob read the chapter heading he smiled, and
was on the point of reading it aloud for Lola's amuse-
ment, when he reflected that she had shown signs of
being in an uncertain temper all day, and that it
would be a pity to disturb her now that she was keep-
ing so quiet. She, also, had a book in which she was
interested. So Jacob read on.

He read the novelist's explanation twice, very care-
fully, and then his heart went thump and stopped,
and then thumped again so loudly that he thought
Lola would hear it. His first feeling was one of ex-
traordinary excitement; he was In the middle of a
wildly exciting adventure, cast for a big part in a real
drama. This strange thing had happened to him, of
all people, he could hardly credit It. He dropped his
book and stared into the fire, but Lola did not raise
her eyes.

But to this feeling there succeeded a realization of

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 433

the facts of life. He had been duped. This woman
he had married had hed to him, deceived him. He
tried to be very angry and resentful, but that ethical
sense of his began to dominate him. She must have
had some good reason. And, lastly, a desire to be
fine overtook him — a reversion, may be, to his first
feeling for the theatre — a desire to be splendidly
forgiving, broad-minded, humble, condescending, gra-
cious, heroic, and magnificently self-sacrificing all in
one. He continued to gaze into the fire, revolving
these things.

And, at last, Lola became conscious of a feeling of
tension in the atmosphere. She was sensitive to at-
mospheres. At first she was a little uneasy, restless,
and then she looked over the top of her book at Jacob
staring into the fire.

" Jimmy," she said sharply, " what are you dream-
ing about.'"'

He started slightly, turned, and looked at her.

She read something unusual in that look, and
dropped a hand on to the arm of her chair.

" What is it, dear ?" she asked, and Jacob could see
that she was frightened.

*' It 's nothing — really," he said, and stretched
out an arm, leaned over, and offered her the book
he had been reading.

She took it in silence, and read the indicated
paragraph.

Jacob returned to his contemplation of the fire,
it was an act of delicacy.

Lola watched him for an instant intently, shrewd
analysis in her eyes, watched him with the intent eyes
of a prize-fighter looking for his opportunity, then
she came and knelt by him, buried her face on his
shoulder. Jacob put an arm round her, and said:
" Tell me all about it, dear."

484 JACOB STAHL

It was the one thing in the world she had no in-
tention of doing, but she told him a masterly story,
inconsecutive, full of gaps, without detail or con-
firmation, but, to him, so completely and finally
convincing.

It began with a fact. She had been married at
twenty. That was the only statement which was
quite truthfully represented. To please her mother

— Edgar was well-off, and she had not disliked him.
The preliminaries were a trifle obvious. The re-
mainder was chiefly innuendo.

" We did n't quarrel exactly, but — he was brutal,
there were other women — soon, and I knew he was
tired of me. He wanted to get rid of me. Oh! it
was hell, hell. My mother never believed me, she
sided with Edgar. I had to bear it all alone and
pretend. I had to pretend to our friends that I was
happy. Once I tried to commit suicide. Look ! "
She raised her head for a moment, and showed him a
straight scar under her chin.

" Good God ! " murmured Jacob. He had never
noticed the scar before, a little white line, possibly
two inches long across her throat.

She dropped her head again. " And then," she
went on, " there was a man Edgar threw in my
way. He did it deliberately. He wanted to be rid
of me, and the man was sorry for me. There was
never anything between us, we were only friends, but
it was so easy to compromise us, and I did n't care

— I wanted to be free, then, even though it meant
poverty and disgrace. The case was not defended.
No one ever contradicted the lies they told about me."
She was crying now, in a state of complete emotional
prostration. The story she was telling had taken
hold of her, her imagination made it all real. She
was the injured innocent, she did not complicate her

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 435

role by bitterness, rave of revenge or kill the veri-
similitude of her simplicity by any art of the theatre.
In her quiet grief that seemed to bear no malice, she
was supremely artistic and convincing.

" What became of the man ? " asked Jacob.

" He was n't well-off. He had no money to defend
the case. I hardly saw him afterwards. He was
very bitter against Edgar, and it put him against
me. I believe he thinks it was deliberate on my part,
too ; that I used him to get my freedom. It is diffi-
cult for you to understand how utterly careless I
was about it all, but nothing seemed to matter just
then, only that I should be alone and free."

There was insistence on that anxiety to be away
from her husband. No accusation was made, but
the unspoken suggestion left a deep impression.
When Jacob, anxious on this point, asked a question,
she shuddered. " I can't speak of that," she said.

What a subject for pity she had become! How
evilly treated! What remained for Jacob but to
make amends for all that cruelty; to give her peace
and love and a little joy in life.? That was become,
now, his one reason for existence. How could he ever
again reproach her.? He must endure, and endure
silently, whenever he suffered misunderstanding from
her ; he must remember how much more cruelly she
had been misunderstood.

" You have had a rotten time, darling, but it will
be all right now," he said.

She clung to him a little closer, and was bitterly
sorry for herself.

"Why didn't you tell me before.?" he asked
presently.

" I meant to. I know I ought to have told you,"
she said, she was all humility this evening, " but oh !
if you only knew how I hate any reference to the

4S6 JACOB STAHL

subject, you would understand how I have put it off
and put it off; and then I began to hope it need
never be mentioned."

" I understand ! " said Jacob. " We won't ever
refer to it again."

It was a happy evening in many ways. If only
that mood of humility had stayed, there might have
been a hope for them, but it soon evaporated. Lola
Stahl had gifts, great gifts ; she could deceive others
and deceive herself; but she could never make any
man happy nor find true happiness for herself. The
curse which had been laid upon her was the instinct
to kill the thing she loved, to kill the love she desired
by irritating it to death. Her emotionalism, her
insincerity, her posing, and her intense egotism were
the outward signs of a shallow woman who longed to
be deep ; and she achieved the appearance of depth ;
but by complexity. She was not clever enough to
see that it is only the single-hearted who are capable
of great emotions. The greatest of Lola Stahl's
troubles had never weighed upon her; her greatest
grief had been compounded of emotionalism and false
sentiment; the outward aspect of it had always been
her chief concern, even when she was alone.

" Just one more question," said Jacob. " It 's the
last."

She nodded her acquiescence.

" That man we met in Oxford Street ; was
he . . . .? "

" Edgar," she nodded. This, also, was a true state-
ment. After a long pause, during which she sat still
at his feet, holding his hand, she said:

" Promise not to make me think of it again ! "

" I promise — faithfully," returned Jacob.

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 437

6.

The determination to work, made in Great Ormond
Street when faced with the necessity for the liquida-
tion of capital, was put to the test on the first Mon-
day after Jacob's return from Paris. It is probable
that the start might have been postponed to Tuesday
or Wednesday, had it not been for Lola, who as-
sumed without question that Jacob would start work
on Monday. He had essayed enthusiasm. " There 's
an awful lot to be done," had been his form of
submission.

A quondam dining-room had been devoted to the
uses of an office. It was on the entrance floor, and
easy of access for clients ; and for any travellers who
might be attracted by the brilliance of the new brass
plate. This room had been satisfactorily fitted for
its new purposes. A drawing-table had been fixed
in the window, a long brown wood slab that reached
from wall to wall, canted slightly towards the room,
and fixed at a height convenient for one either to
stand and work, or to use the tall stool. In the
middle of the room was a great pedestal table with
edges shot, and inlaid with a hard wood shp to take
the head of a T-square and guarantee a reliable right
angle. The pedestal which supported this table was
filled with long drawers capable of receiving a double
elephant sheet laid flat. Only two drawers out of
twenty were filled as yet. One contained " cartridge,"
and the other " Whatman " ; the other eighteen
drawers would presently be labelled with the titles
of the various jobs executed by J. L. Stahl, Archt. &
Surveyor. On your right as you looked out into
the Square was a bookcase of capable dimensions,
containing at present some hundred and fifty works
on technical subjects; the majority of them bought

4S8 JACOB STAHL

within the past three months. For the rest, there
were the usual furnishings. On the walls were hung
T-squares of various sizes, set-squares, curves, and
a centrolinead which Jacob had not yet learned to
use, but which he had bought because he meant to
make his own " perspectives," with Lola's help. The
only other mural adornments were two engravings in
oak frames which did not represent architectural
subjects. In one comer, badly placed for light, but
there had been no other place for it, was a big roll-
top desk, with a revolving chair, and against the
walls near at hand were three other chairs designed
for callers. It was at the desk that Jacob intended
to sit when interviewing his clients.

Into this rather bleak room, in which he was to
spend so many long hours, Jacob came with Lola at
half-past nine on that first Monday morning. They
decided that it looked business-like and professional.
Everything had been provided, all the receptacles
designed for various necessities and conveniences had
been filled. Office note-paper, paper-fasteners, fools-
cap, pencils, indiarubber, drawing instruments, elas-
tic bands, pens ... a whole catalogue of little
things, were all in their proper places, nothing re-
mained but to sit down and begin.

" I won't interrupt you," said Lola, and went out.
Jacob sat down at the open desk and prepared to
begin.

The trouble was to know just how to start.
Bradley's jobs had not come in yet. Eric's job
must be visited and measured, and the drains tested.
(Jacob had bought a book on drainage.) For Cairns'
job he had, as yet, no particulars. Obviously, he
must begin by writing letters to Bradley, Eric, and
Cairns. This was soon done. What next.? He might,
of course, get out some sketches for Cairns, but what

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 439

was the good? It would be a waste of time. If
Cairns wanted plans to talk over when he came, there
were any number of designs in the Builder and the
Architects^ Review, and he had five years' bound vol-
umes of those journals. He took them down and went
through them, marking the position of any plans
he thought suitable with slips of paper.

At a quarter past eleven he found himself yawning.

" Oh ! Lord, this won't do," he thought. " I 'm
just getting through the time as I did at Morley's.
I wish to goodness I had something definite to do."
It was the old trouble of lack of initiative. He found
it so hard to make work for himself. " Those drains
of Eric's," was his next thought. " I '11 go down to
Putney as soon as I hear from him." He took down
the book on drainage, and prepared himself to make
a comprehensive study of the subject, but the book
was technical and not very comprehensible. The
yawns were not stifled by his study of drains. Never-
theless, it tided him over till half-past twelve, and
then he went upstairs to report progress.

Lola had been out shopping, and was full of her
own affairs. She did not ask many questions, and
Jacob's report gave the impression of a fairly suc-
cessful morning.

The first two days were in some ways the worst, and
were not truly representative. The end of the week
was brightened by two expeditions. The first to Put-
ney, on Wednesday, when he had the good luck to find
a moderately competent workman to assist him in the
work of testing the drains. The workman's practical
experience and Jacob's theoretical knowledge were
combined to put the drains of Eric's future residence
to a severe test by water, a test to which they were
by no means impervious.

" 'Er leaks somewheres," was the workman's verdict

UO JACOB STAHL

on nearly every length examined, and Jacob, after
repeated questionings as to whether the workman was
sure his " plug was holding," was — perhaps a little
reluctantly — forced to admit tliat " 'er did leak
somewheres."

" They '11 all ave to come up," was the verdict of
labour, and in Jacob's report there was a rider to the
effect that the system was not above criticism ; bell-
traps, a liability to siphonage — practically exploited
— and unventilated lengths of drain were commented
upon. Jacob was proud of that report — it was
practical, and showed competence ; moreover, it led to
a triumph.

Eric, the hard-and-fast, replied with what was
almost an insult, however carefully worded. Would
Jacob object to Eric's taking a second opinion.'' The
report involved an expenditure far in excess of the
sum originally estimated. Eric did not want to in-
cur that expense unless it was absolutely necessary.
The letter implied, though it carefully avoided stat-
ing, a doubt as to Jacob's competence. The old
attitude, of course. Eric would never believe that
Jacob could do anything properly.

The expert opinion called in was undoubtedly
reliable, none other than the sanitary surveyor.
There was a four-handed conference at the house at
Putney between the surveyor, Eric, Jacob, and the
competent workman, who had been again engaged by
Jacob to perform necessary and somewhat unclean
duties. The surveyor, who took nothing on trust, and
gave careful attention to the fixing of every plug,
had no objection to employing Jacob's workman.
The second testing was exceedingly thorough, but the
result of it detracted little from the matter of Jacob's
report, now in the hands of the surveyor. The little
that was clipped was elaboration, the result of Jacob's

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 441

experience of hospital work in Mr. Morley's office.
The surveyor hesitated a little, and thought some of
the recommendations were, perhaps, unnecessary.
But he spoke to Jacob as to a brother-professional,
and was interested in hearing of the precisions in-
volved in drains that carried infection.

It was a complete triumph. For the first time in
his experience Jacob was able to put his brother in the
background. Eric's opinion on these matters was
worth nothing, and when the conference was con-
cluded, Eric was almost apologetic.

" I hope you did n't mind our consulting the sur-
veyor," he said. " You see how matters stood," and
after Jacob had denied that there was any cause for
complaint — as things had turned out, he was quite
satisfied — Eric implied that he would have complete
confidence in leaving everything concerning the struc-
ture of the Putney house in his brother's hands.

This was splendid, but there were many practical
difficulties still to be struggled with, and the com-
petent workman, though he received a substantial
acknowledgment, did not receive certain credit that
was due to him. If Jacob had visited the Putney
house with an incompetent workman on that first
occasion, it Is doubtful whether those defective drains
would not have been passed.

The second expedition in that first week was to
Bradley, and the outcome of it was not quite so
encouraging.

" I admit it 's a beastly job," Bradley said. " But
you will have plenty of time to give to it, and my
fellows are full up."

" Yes, I have plenty of time," replied Jacob, with
a feeling of doubt as to whether that were all that
would be needed.

The beastly job was an alteration to a certain

44« JACOB STAHL

building in Old Broad Street. There was a great
wandering basement, shut off from daylight, now
partly partitioned off into sample rooms, and partly
devoted to lumber; this had to be cleared, some day-
light admitted if possible, old columns and floor sup-
ports re-designed, a new staircase planned, and the
whole generally improved and redecorated, so that
it might serve the purposes of a restaurant. On
other floors, further clearances had to be effected. In
brief, the old wandering, unlettable place had to be
reconstructed internally without touching the shell,
so that it might be turned to profit and bring in a
rental of over £2,000 a year. Bradley was quite
right, it was a beastly job, nothing straightforward
about it. When Jacob took home the rough plans,
he had really no idea how to set about the work. And
there was no credit in it. Bradley appeared as the
architect, if Jacob took the commission ; only the
work, not the client, had been passed on. There was
one consolation, Bradley would be responsible, and
would not pass Jacob's designs until they were ap-
proved. Nevertheless, Jacob had to demonstrate his
competence to Bradley, and he doubted his ability.
This was before the triumph of the four-handed con-
ference, which served to put new heart into him — for
a time.

The work of Cairns hung fire. In the first place,
because Jacob felt that he had his hands full, in the
second, because Cairns insisted that there was no
hurry. He consented to look through some of the
plans In the Builder^ one Sunday, but he never came
to figures or any precise information as to his own
plans. He talked a great deal of detail, vaguely, but
even the site was not yet decided upon. " You might
look out for something," he said to Jacob concerning
this question of site, and Jacob said he would, though

SINGLE AND UNMARRIED 443

he had no idea in what direction he was to look. " I
don't care where it is," Cairns had said. " It must
be high, I hke hills ; not too far from a station in a
well- wooded country. I must have at least ten acres
of ground, and don't forget to see that there is plenty
of water."

It is not difficult to understand why Cairns' plans
were shelved, and it is fairly certain that even the
most initiative of architects would never have brought
that genial philanthropist up to the scratch. Cairns'
house was a castle, and its situation was unapproach-
able in the days before aeroplanes and dirigibles.
This fact made it all the more unbearable that Lola,
whenever she needed an accusation to bring against
Jacob, always reverted to Cairns' plans, instancing
them as an example of a splendid opportunity lost by
indolence.

" The first Sunday I mentioned the subject, I told
you to get out the plans, and not wait for further
particulars from him," was a statement of hers which
had a bewildering quality of truth, and it carried an
implication that was justified. Jacob knew that he
had shirked, and all his protestations that Cairns
never meant to build, did not excuse that first evasion.

With all his cleverness, and Jacob was clever in
many ways even as an architect, it is easy to see why
he failed. That lack of energy and initiative was the
primary cause, among the secondaries were his lack of
self-confidence, his incapacity to keep his mind on
uncongenial subjects, and, finally, the spirit of de-
spair and complete lack of interest which overtook
him when domestic and financial worries fretted his
mind and made him incapable of any act of concentra-
tion. It is that desperate state of mind which must
now be recorded, it grew upon him after the second
completed year of his married life.

CHAPTER XXVIII

ANOTHER ANODYNE

The pitiable mental condition into which Jacob de-
clined during the third year of his married life, a
condition possible only to a man of his temperament,
yet in no way representative of his normal abilities,
will be clearly understood by the scientific psycholo-
gist, the student of the normalities and abnormalities
of mental functions under stress. But the critic of
human actions and motives, whose judgment is based
on his knowledge of literature rather than on his
knowledge of life, will inevitably overlook the pathol-
ogy of the case, and demonstrate, on a priori grounds,
that Jacob Stahl was both culpable and incapable.
The contradiction involved is purely metaphysical,
and is put on one side by the critic whose name is
Everyman — the word " man " in this connection
denoting genus, not sex.

Indeed, the thing happened ; it was inevitable that
Jacob should suffer criticism — and condemnation.
In some cases a shrug of the shoulders suggested the
word " incapable," in others the accusation was vocal,
often lengthy, and " culpable " was the essence and
intention of the prosecutor, who also took over the
functions of jury and judge. From the prosecutor's
point of view, it was most unfortunate that he (the
pronoun is asexual) could not, also, assume the su-
preme function of lawgiver, and so enforce the now

ANOTHER ANODYNE 446

futile sentence pronounced in the assumed capacity
of judge. " If I had my way . . ." is the subjunctive
full of significance, which hints at a perfect world;
but the pictured Utopias are so various. If Jacob
had had his way, for instance, it is hard to imagine
that it would have led to the same ideal as that of
his prosecutor. . . .

The shadow of financial trouble was growing darker
every day, it was a shadow so all-embracing that all
other explanations — save one — are unnecessary.

Bradley fulfilled his promise to the letter. After
that first " beastly job " in Old Broad Street, which
got itself carried out somehow, with Bradley's assist-
ance, a real client was passed on to Jacob. The
client's name was Catling, and he appeared at first to
be so full of promise that Jacob engaged an assistant
at a salary of £2 a week. Catling was intent on the
development of a Northern suburb, his ideas were
large, but his methods were practical. He had con-
ceived the theory, even in those days of Queen Vic-
toria, that the average Londoner prefers to live in a
house that is habitable. Catling's suburb was to be
designed ; the houses were to be planned by an archi-
tect, and each and every one of them was to be
considered in detail with a view to rendering them
habitable. It is possible that the scheme might have
been a success even in those days, but certain qualifi-
cations were necessary for the architect, qualifications
which Jacob did not possess. Catling's architect
should have been a practical man in the sense implied
by George Beane, ex-Mayor of Birchester — that is
to say, he should have understood the possibilities and
uses of material with a view to economy. When it
came to figures on Jacob's estimates, the scheme was
unworkable. If you spend £1,000 in building a
house, you cannot afford to let it for £35 a year in

446 JACOB STAHL

any case, and in Catling's scheme there was a sinking-
fund to be allowed for. Catling came to the conclu-
sion that his scheme was an economic impossibility,
and not one of the houses was ever built. The fee
allowed for the drawings made, was miserably inade-
quate, but Catling beat Jacob down. Catling was a
business man, and had other irons in the fire, also, his
capital was limited.

Yet this scheme of Catling's kept Jacob occupied
for more than a year. He was justified in building
great hopes upon it, for if the plan had matured,
it would have kept him fully employed and pro-
vided him with a sufficient income. The withdrawal
of Catling marked the first coming of the shadow
of despair.

And, meanwhile, that capital in the funds was
evaporating at a most unholy speed. Lola had ideas
about entertaining, and her ideas grew as her scope
widened. " You must know people," she said to
Jacob, and knowing them, in her sense, meant en-
tertaining them. The Stahls' circle of acquaintances
extended rapidly, but the anticipated advantages
were still to seek. Jacob only garnered two very
small jobs from all that circle. It is difficult to
understand quite why it was that his connection did
not grow, but certainly one reason was Jacob's
modesty. Even Lola could not teach him to talk
about himself and brag of his professional attain-
ments, and this part of the affair was left to him
entirely. Lola herself always avoided any form of
advertisement; she had a pride, true or false, which
took fright at giving any hint to her guests that
some form of payment was expected for their en-
tertainment. Indeed, it is probable that she allowed
her social ambition to deaden her common-sense.
She figured to herself that her part of the business

ANOTHER ANODYNE 447

was to entertain, and she did it thoroughly, and
forgot that, so far as she was concerned, the enter-
tainment was for a specific purpose. She had defi-
nitely given up her own work three months after
her marriage. She was not strong enough to keep
it up, she had said.

She must be forgiven on one count — Jacob did
not confide his financial troubles to her in detail.
He had never given her a clear statement as to his
means before they were married. Afterwards he
hinted difficulties at first, but he found that conver-
sation on these subjects always led to bickerings,
and to the use by Lola of that unhappy word
" must " in connection with Jacob's doings. As a
result, he withdrew into himself, and bore his
troubles in loneliness. His attitude after two years
of marriage was, briefly, " Anything to avoid a row.
I 've got enough worries without that." Unhappily,
rows were not avoidable ; Jacob, fallen long since
from the pedestal of heroes, was now become one
of those unfortunates who can never do anything
right. Lola's methods were the more cruel in that
they were so subtle.

A day which definitely marked the deepening of
the shadow came one May, when Jacob was just
thirty years old, and had been married for nearly
two years and nine months. They had been to a
theatre and to an " at home " the night before, and
Lola's temper had suffered because she had been
over-tired.

Lola did not come down to breakfast, which was
a relief, but another and equally depressing com-
panion shared Jacob's meal. It arose like a genie

448 JACOB STAHL

out of the small compass of a letter, and, having
arisen, filled the world — Jacob's world. The letter
contained the information that £800 alone stood be-
tween him and financial failure.

He withdrew into his office to think things over, not
because he hked the office — he had grown to loathe
it and its associations — but because he was afraid
that Lola might be down at any moment.

He sat down at his desk, and began to draw idly,
meaninglessly on a piece of paper, first capital let-
ters and grotesque heads, and then disconnected
curves and lines. His thoughts were running round
in a vicious circle, thus : " Something must be done,
we can't go on like this. Only £800 left, it won't
last us another year, not much more than six months
at our present rate. Good Lord! I have been a
fool. I must tell her. She must understand the
situation, now, while there is still something left.
We might let the house furnished. I might get
some regular work. But I must make a clean breast
of it, and then . . ." — he shrugged his shoulders
— " then there will be an awful shindy." He pulled
down the corners of his mouth, and became intent
on the accurate drawing of an entirely meaningless
curve. " Shindy, shindy, shindy," he repeated aloud,
and then printed the word in capitals on the paper
in front of him. " Oh ! my God ! I can't face it,"
he said, still speaking aloud, and he got up from his
desk and began to pace up and down the room. The
sound of a step overhead warned him that Lola was
up. He took a sudden, desperate resolution. He
had been through this half a dozen times in the past
three months ; he must act. Lola must know. He
went upstairs before his resolution had time to cool,
and found Lola criticizing housemaid's work in the
drawing-room.

ANOTHER ANODYNE 449

" That new girl is a perfect slut," was the greet-
ing he received. " She has n't touched this room-
this morning."

It was always a case of " that new girl " in
Bloomsbury Square. Mrs. Stahl did not keep her
servants.

" Has n't she? " replied Jacob wearily.

" You can see for yourself that she has n't," said
Lola indignantly. " Will you ring? I must speak
to her."

The occasion was not well chosen, but Jacob knew
that a really suitable occasion might be difficult to
find. He was desperate, this morning, his mind
was revolving to the tune of " only £800 left " out
of over £4,500, in less than three years. Where had
it all gone?

" Never mind the maid just now," he said. " I
want to talk to you."

She scented trouble, instinctively. " Oh? " she
said, and in the interrogating ring of the monosyl-
lable there was the sound of disapproval. " Well !
Don't be too long over it. I 've some shopping to
do before lunch."

Jacob was half inclined to play the coward, but
he nerved himself now as he had nerved himself
eight years before, when he had faced the tyrant of
Elmover. This was not such an ordeal as that had
been.

" It 's about money," he said. " We shall have
to draw in a bit." She was about to speak, but he
hurried on. " I heard from my lawyer this morn-
ing. He tells me that I have only eight hundred
pounds of capital left. What will happen when
that 's gone — candidly, I don't know — I really
don't know."

" What? " It was not a request for a restate-

450 JACOB STAHL

ment, but a criticism — a sharp, incisive, brutal,
slightly vulgar comment.

Jacob could not fail to gather the import of that
curt, fault-finding "What?" He fixed his mind
as he always did, when a quarrel was impending, on
the thought of how Lola had suffered during her
first marriage. Her first husband had been a brute.
Jacob was determined she should never be in a posi-
tion to bring that accusation against him. " I 'm
sorry," he said, meekly (far too meekly!), "but
those are the facts."

" And you kept me ignorant of the fact that we
were living on our capital ? Oh! . . ." She shrugged
her shoulders with a gesture of hands and arms, and
turned away to the window. Her contempt could
not have been expressed more plainly.

" I wanted to save you worry," explained Jacob,
keeping his temper.

She snorted, politely. " Save me worry .'' " she re-
peated. " Do you think I have n't worried, when I
have seen how you 've let your chances slip by.? "
She spoke with her back to him.

"What chances.?"

" Every chance that 's been put in your way ! "
She turned to him, " From Mr. Cairns' house
onwards."

" Let 's leave Cairns' house out of it," begged
Jacob. "What else was there.?"

" Oh ! you muddled that work of Mr. Catling's in
some incomprehensible way. Got him out estimates
for about twice as much as he wanted to spend, and
then let him off for about a tenth of what he ought
to have paid you."

" You don't understand these things," said Jacob.
How could he go into the detail of that affair of
Catling's.? There was so much to be said, but it

ANOTHER ANODYNE 451

would be so useless to try to say it. She would take
him up on the first point, and escape the main-
issue.

" I think I understand — perfectly," she said.

The worst of it was that she did understand up
to a point, and Jacob had been fool enough to con-
fide in her within limits. He remembered that in a
generous mood she had sympathized with him when
he had lost Catling's work.

" I really don't think you can say I threw away
my chances with regard to Catling," Jacob returned
to the chief of the side issues with which his wife was
obscuring the question of rash expenditure.

" Of course you did." There was contempt in her
face, and tone. " You slacked and muddled; you
know it yourself perfectly well."

If only there had not been a grain of truth in the
accusation, he might have had an efficient answer, but
she was so infernally clever, so diabolically subtle
in her attacks. She misrepresented, but her very
misrepresentations had so much sting.

" I don't see that it is any good abusing me," said
Jacob. " You have done that often enough. It
won't mend matters."

" There is only one way to mend matters, my dear
Jimmy; you must pull yourself together, and be
a little less indolent."

" Oh ! Good Lord ! What am I to do? "

" Why did n't you go in for competitions ?
Was n't that how Mr. Bradley got all his work.? "

" I 'm not clever enough ! "

*' It 's rather a pity you did n't tell me you were
a fool before we were married."

" I think it is," replied Jacob, quietly, and then,
to cover up the significance of his saying, he added,
" You soon found it out."

462 JACOB STAHL

" What do you mean by you think it is ? I sup-
pose you 've been regretting it for some time. Well?
Why don't you get rid of me? It won't be a new
experience — for me." She put a world of mean-
ing, bitterness, and misery, into that " for me." It
was unfair, it was not justified, but, as usual, it
reduced Jacob to feebleness.

" My dear Lola, don't talk like that. I have
never given you the least cause — in any way."

" You 've been very forbearing, I know, but you
have even given up pretending that you love me."

It was true, damnably true, and he knew it. He
had tried so hard to go on pretending, tried in his
own thoughts even, but all his trying had been use-
less. He did not love her ; she had killed his love, if
he had ever had any, killed it slowly, deliberately, re-
morselessly, and, now, she adduced the fact that he
no longer loved her as evidence against him. Of all
the uses of her weapon, that weapon she had wielded
so cruelly ever since her confession, this was the one
that wounded him most. Curiously, it aggravated
him at the same time. If he loved her no longer,
whose fault was it?

" It 's not a case of pretending," he protested.
*' You know I have n't altered," but there was no
conviction in his tone, no warmth.

" You are quite right," she said. " It 's not a
case of pretending. You 've even given up doing
that."

Jacob sat down and buried his head in his hands.
He foresaw the ending of this discussion now. She
had made it impossible for him to return to the
money question without bullying her. He had merely
given her another cause for complaint against him.
And, presently, it might not be for two or three
days, there would be a reconciliation. How he

ANOTHER ANODYNE 453

loathed those reconciliations when he was brought
lower than the dust, and then forced to pretend —
to pretend he loved her. Yet what could he do?
this must go on and on, always. It would go on
when they had been driven from Bloomsbury Square,
and he had found work as an assistant in some archi-
tect's office, and Lola, perhaps, if her pride would
let her, had taken up her own work again. Yes, it
would go on ; it must go on. Her first husband had
been a brute — Jacob must do his best.

" Very well," he said wearily, after a long inter-
val of silence. " Have it your own way."

" My own way, indeed ! " She had won and meant,
now, to have full value for her victory. " There
is n't much chance of my having my own way unless
you make up your mind to work, instead of wasting
your time, mooning about the place."

" Oh ! go on ! " put in Jacob. " You 've said it all
before."

" And you never take any notice ! Why don't
you ask Mr. Bradley to give you some more
work? "

" He has n't any to give away at the present mo-
ment. I can't go on pestering him."

" I suppose he 's sick of your incapacity, if the
truth were known."

" Very likely."

" Don't sit there like a dummy agreeing with
everything I say. Why don't you try and behave
like a man? "

" I wonder what you would say if I did? " He
had another thought in his mind, and he looked at
her directly. He hardly ever looked at her when
they were quarrelling.

" I can't imagine the possibility," she retorted.

Jacob got up and walked slowly across the room.

454 JACOB STAHL

There was only one way to treat such women as
these, was the thought in his mind. She would re-
spect him, perhaps love him, if he were brutal. But
her first husband had been a brute! Had he? For
the first time Jacob began to doubt that assertion.

" Where are you going. -^ " asked Lola sharply, as
he reached the door.

" Hell, I think," replied Jacob, and he heard her
laugh scornfully as he went out. He shut the door
quietly and deliberately.

He did not go to hell immediately, not even to
that little private hell of his downstairs which had
become so populous. It was full of devils, that room.
Since the assistant had gone — he had been dis-
missed when Catling's work failed — Jacob had
shrunk more and more from facing the first morn-
ing entry into his office. He would postpone begin-
ning work when it was possible; only the choice of
the harder alternative — Lola's reproaches on his
idleness — drove him to that retreat. And then the
usual struggle began. The physical nausea which
overtook him at the thought of effort, the physical
distaste he felt towards any exercise of brain and
imagination. It was all so hopeless, so useless.
Lola had killed his faith in himself. He had no
diversions, even. To write, or try to write, was
waste of time in Lola's eyes. To read was waste
of time. He did nothing; he was afraid to read
surreptitiously in the office, for fear of Lola's in-
trusions. She had formed a habit of dropping in
upon him unexpectedly " to see how he was getting
on." So he had to work, had to make work, had
to pretend to work, and at night he felt tired out,

ANOTHER ANODYNE 465

though he had accomplished nothing, though there
was never anything to show for all his misdirected
energy. For energy was expended, however use-
lessly, and energy of the most draining and exhaust-
ing kind. He was like a nervous, fretful horse set
to uncongenial work. The draught might be light
and the road easy, but the driver jagged his mouth,
whipped and fretted him. He had worked himself
into a nervous sweat, and every touch of the whip
roused resentment. If he had been coaxed and
fondled, he would have put his weight to the collar
readily enough, proud to show his paces. As it was,
he threw up his head, jibbed, shied, and yet tried
to demonstrate that he was working. The load re-
mained almost stationary, but the nervous prostra-
tion of the animal that drew it was greater than
if he had dragged the load across England.

Jacob must not be judged by the philosopher's
index, his case was pathological. He had come to
believe in his own incapacity, and, mentally, wrote
the story of his failure. He pondered over the
parallel case of inertia in the negroid races, and
came to the conclusion that it was due to the failure
of some brain function.

The time had soon come when the thought of
suicide presented itself as deliciously attractive. He
planned a dozen means of exit, some of them ingeni-
ous, by which his parting might be achieved with
little effort and with little pain. It was a strange
form of altruism which restrained him. He did
not consider suicide as an act of cowardice, to him-
self he believed that he owed nothing, but he felt
that he had a responsibility which he could not
neglect — his care of Lola. He did not hate her ;
he had not that sublime egotism which induces the
nourishment of hatred — sublime egotism, or mad-

4>56 JACOB STAHL

ness of other kinds. Jacob, even at this moment,
was too sane to cherish any persistent ideal of hate.
The passion may have blazed in him for a moment
when she jarred his most sensitive nerves, but it
evaporated rapidly when he was alone. In truth,
he was sorry for her. He blamed that brute of a
first husband, who had distorted her mind. She
could find good in no one. Deb was laughed at
behind her back ; Cairns was criticized, unkindly ;
Guy Latham's weaknesses were handled without
mercy ; Miss Fermor was openly despised. All
these criticisms on his acquaintances hurt Jacob. At
first he had attempted to stand up for them, but
that method had led to unpleasantness. He had
fallen into a habit of agreement to avoid the terror
of a row — and subsequent reconciliation. She al-
ways displayed a weakness for reconciliations, later.
It was this trait that set him to framing excuses
for her. She had been warped, she had suffered —
whatever happened, she must not suffer again at
his hands.

All these thoughts, and many other allied thoughts,
passed through Jacob's brain in the short time which
was occupied in going downstairs. He loitered, it is
true. In the hall he paused and looked doubtfully at
the closed door of his office. A shaft of May sunlight
was piercing the fanlight of the hall door.

He was wearing a blue serge suit that morning.
He looked at the hat-stand, paused, took down his
bowler, and went out into Bloomsbury Square.

It was one of those rare May days, still and clear,
which give a foretaste of summer far more delicious
than summer itself ; days which are full of impossible
promise, days in which to dream of a to-morrow im-
possibly romantic.

Jacob made for Oxford Street, and bought a straw

ANOTHER ANODYNE 457

hat. *' The first day of summer," said the shopman,
and Jacob agreed with him.

He was going to spend the day in dreaming. This
is the sequel to that last deliberate cigarette. He
had but one refuge : — to forget. He would forget
for a whole day, put his life away from him, go out
into the quiet and peace of the country, and let the
consequences go hang.

He went to Burnham Beeches, selecting a train at
Paddington, haphazard, as he had done years before
at Ashby Sutton. But this day was not marred by
afternoon rain nor excess of claret. He wandered and
lingered, discovered the beeches after what seemed to
him a very long walk, and had lunch there, a very
primitive lunch, for the season for Burnham Beeches
had not begun, and the provision for tourists was
elementary — but he had it at a trestle-table in the
open air, and was satisfied. He drank ginger-beer.
Then he idled among the beeches, and played roman-
tic games with an imaginary companion. Later, he
drifted eastward over the common, and at five o'clock
found himself at Stoke Poges, where he made ac-
quaintance with Gray's churchyard, and was disap-
pointed. He had always associated the " Elegy "
with the churchyard at Ashby Sutton, which hung
on the side of a hill, and had a fine prospect of
meadow-land falling to the distant river. He was
very tired when he reached Slough, but restfully,
physically tired. His mind had had a much-needed
rest from worry and aggravation and the compelling
necessity for effort.

But as the horrible train bore him back towards the
grime and odour of London, the shadow from which
he had escaped for a few hours loomed darkly on the
horizon. It was a London shadow; he visualized it
as a great, impenetrable pall of smoke which was not

468 JACOB STAHL

smoke in anything but appearance, it was the shadow
of a million fearful crimes. Never had there been
any shadow like this over him in the country. The
thought of his misery at Ashby Sutton, after the per-
fidy of Madeline had been made clear to him, was a
joy, a thing of beauty, compared to the depression
of the shadow. His misery then had been clean,
romantic, country misery that had a quality of
beauty — the sort of misery one could enjoy, in which
one could, to a certain extent, luxuriate.

But this shadow ! It was — to use Lola's word
properly for once — appalling.

It was in the train that he made up his mind defi-
nitely. When the £800 were gone he would go out of
the world quietly, by one of the ingenious ways he had
devised.

As he put his latchkey into the door of the house in
Bloomsbury Square, he braced himself for the coming
scene. " This time she really has some excuse," he
reflected, and, illogically, decided that on this occa-
sion he would not stand being bullied.

He found Lola in the drawing-room, reading.

" Where, on earth, have you been .'' " she asked,
laying down the book.

He went over to her and drew a chair near to
hers.

" In the country. Burnham Beeches," he said,
quietly.

She looked at him inquiringly.

" All by yourself? " she asked.

" Yes, all by myself. Most certainly all by myself.
I wanted a little peace and quiet." She was strangely
calm, he thought. He was almost sorry, he felt in
the mood to hold his own.

" Poor old boy," said Lola, soothingly, laying her
hand on his. " I 'm afraid you 've been dreadfully

ANOTHER ANODYNE 459

worried lately. But it will all come right." As an
afterthought, she added : " But you might have taken
me with you. It has been such a glorious day."

" I thought you did n't care for the country," said
Jacob.

" I love it — sometimes." The accented word was
delivered with emotion, and the qualifying adverb
hardly depreciated the quality of her enthusiasm.

There w-as silence for a few moments, she was still
holding his hand, and then she said : " What did
you do? "

" Nothing, absolutely nothing," replied Jacob.
" Just loafed and mooned and dreamed."

" It 's very pleasant to do absolutely nothing,
sometimes," returned Lola, softly.

The genius of the woman ! How perfectly she real-
ized her limitations ! With what consummate skill she
bided her time ! Her instinct, so sure in some things,
so utterly false in others, had told her, even as Jacob
entered the room, that this was an occasion when she
would be defeated if she attempted to bully him. He
was master to-night, and she would allow him to exer-
cise his mastery if he had a wish to be master. But
in her apparent abdication she gained control, she did
not lose it. He was master to-night, and knew it, but
he had put another fact on record against himself,
a fact which she would not scruple to use at some
future time. He had not only wasted a whole day in
loafing, mooning, dreaming, but he had gone off and
left her in suspense, without a word. Later he would
learn that she had suffered agonies that day, he would
learn that he, too, had been a brute.

Dimly he was conscious of all this, as he sat, his
hand resting quietly under hers. But he made no use
of his vision — he was inclined to blame himself for
having gone out alone. It had been a little brutal.

460 JACOB STAHL

He must make amends by working, really working to-
morrow, though the very thought of it brought a feel-
ing of deadness and heaviness. He sighed!

How well Lola knew Jacob — in some ways. How
little he knew her in any way at all.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE INDISCEETION OF CAIENS
1.

Cairns had dropped out of Mrs. Stahl's visiting list.
He had not been to Bloomsbury Square for more than
a year. Jacob had frequently deplored the fact; he
liked Cairns, who had been the means of effecting a
change in Jacob's political opinions. In the old days
— the system of chronology marks a change of men-
tal attitude — Jacob had been a Conservative. He
had accepted the principles of Conservatism as he had
accepted the inspiration of the Bible. Radicals
and atheists, people like Bradlaugh, were anathema.
Even when he had learned to doubt the inspiration of
the Bible, he still went on accepting the principles of
Conservatism, and he would have been fiercely indig-
nant if anyone had ever accused him of being a Radi-
cal, it appeared so obviously to be a term of re-
proach, it had none of the ripe, aristocratic savour
that attached to the old-fashioned term of Whig. He
always pictured a Radical as being unwashed.

Cairns had helped Jacob over another barrier. He
had helped him to think for himself in politics, as
Bradley had helped him to think for himself in reli-
gious matters. Jacob was not converted (or per-
verted); he did not change his opinions, because he
had not held opinions of his own before, but had
quietly accepted the opinions of his teachers : he
merely developed, and the generosity of his tempera-
ment, which admitted readily enough the necessity for

462 JACOB STAHL

equality of opportunity, and the undercurrent of
optimism which ran through him, could only result in
his becoming Liberal in politics. In his own words,
he " wanted everyone to have a chance, and he wanted
to see the world progress." It was another aspect of
his adoration of success. He even wanted the world
to succeed, and this feeling was genuine, it was a part
of himself. But as regards the detail of policy, the
passing of this or that measure, he was comparatively
indifferent. It was the broad lines of policy which
interested him, not the minutise.

Because he was so eager for the success of the
world, he missed Cairns, who was an interesting and
fluent speaker, and an optimist, also, even more pro-
nounced in his optimism than Jacob. Jacob liked to
hear Cairns talk; he missed him.

" I wonder why he never comes, now ? " he said to
Lola on one occasion.

Lola had signified her contempt for Cairns by a
gesture. " I 've asked him two or three times, and
he 's always had some excuse," she said. " I 'm not
going to run after him. If he does n't want to come
and see us, he need n't."

" I wish he would turn up again," said Jacob.

" He has probably found some new friends who are
more interesting," replied Lola; it was quite plain
that she was not going to bother her head about so
insignificant a matter.

Jacob thought she was unfair to Cairns, but he
did not say so.

About a fortnight after that excursion to Bumham
Beeches, Jacob met Cairns in the street.

" Hal-lo," said Jacob with enthusiasm, " I thought
you had gone back to Australia."

Cairns shook hands cordially enough, but he looked
slightly distressed. " I 've been frightfully busy, my

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 463

dear fellow," he said, with a preoccupied air. " How
are you getting on? How 's your wife? "

" Oh ! all right," returned Jacob inclusively. He
would not admit that everything was all wrong, but
he did not wish to he in detail. " I say, why do you
never come to see us, now? It must be over a year,
since you 've been near us."

" Nonsense ! Impossible ! I must try and get over
next Sunday," said Cairns, but he said it without
enthusiasm. For a moment Jacob was half-inclined to
let him go, but he wanted companionship of the kind
which Cairns could give him, and he put the inclina-
tion on one side.

" Are you doing anything particular just this
minute? " he asked. " Could n't you come and have
tea somewhere? "

Cairns was one of those generous, kind-hearted,
slightly emotional, undependable persons who always
wish to please, and who find a genuine pleasure in
generous acts, if they do not involve too great a sac-
rifice. He was popular with everyone. He achieved
popularity with little effort. It was unlike Cairns to
hesitate when he was thus flattered by the expressed
wish for his company ; he found his happiness in
being generous. But on this occasion he did hesitate.
He looked at his watch.

" A quarter to five ? " he said, and paused as
though making a mental calculation as to his
engagements.

" Do come and have tea, there 's a good chap," in-
sisted Jacob. " I 've been rather in the blues, and
there is no one who can put heart into me better than
you can."

Cairns pursed his lips and looked at Jacob keenly.
" In the blues, eh? " he said. " Money troubles, or
domestic worries ? "

464 JACOB STAHL

" I 'm not going to bother you with my affairs,"
replied Jacob evasively. " I only want to have a jaw,
politics, anything you like ! "

" Come to my club ! " said Cairns.

it.

There can be no doubt that Cairns was imprudent,
it has already been noted that he was not dependable.
When in funds, he had been known to lend five hun-
dred pounds to a man in trouble, with little or no
chance of ever seeing his money back. He had been
generous, the action in many ways had seemed fine.
It is true that every one of Cairns' friends heard the
story, modestly told, artistically told, in a way that
threw the limelight on to the troubles of the man to
whom the money had been given — it was, obviously,
a gift — but even if Cairns had not hidden his light
under a bushel, it could not be denied that he stood
to gain nothing but the appreciation of his friends.
The gift earned him no financial, or even social, ad-
vantages. The giving of it had been an emotion which
gave Cairns real pleasure.

Another man might have spent the money on a
more selfish hobby. This matter of the five hundred
pounds is very typical of the man.

When Cairns saw Jacob Stahl's unhappiness —
and he drew him out on that subject with little diffi-
culty — Cairns made him a gift of certain knowl-
edge, a giving which must be condemned as im-
prudent.

It came about very simply. Over the tea-table
Cairns initiated the imprudence.

" Why in the blues, old chap ? " he asked genially.

"Oh! I don't know," replied Jacob. "Things
generally."

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 465

" Married life not turned out such a brilliant suc-
cess as it promised? "

" Oh ! I don't know," repeated Jacob, a little un-
comfortable. Already he had the feeling of being
disloyal to Lola.

" My dear fellow, you can trust me. I saw how
things were going a long time ago."

" What.? How.? " asked Jacob.

Cairns made a French gesture. " My dear fellow,
I know the signs. Good Lord ! I 've been through it
all."

" Been through what? " asked Jacob, stiU on the
defensive.

" The trouble of being tied to a woman who can
never leave one alone. There 's only one way to treat
them, my dear fellow, trust me, I have had experience.
If you don't put your foot down, once and for all,
your life will be a perfect hell."

" But how could you guess ? " said Jacob, throw-
ing up the sponge, and making the great admission.

" It 's the type," replied Cairns.

** But you don't know everything," replied Jacob.
" There are such complications in this affair."

" Go on, out with it ! " said Cairns encouragingly,
" you will feel a lot better afterwards." Already
Cairns was tempted to be imprudently generous.

" You see, she . . ." Jacob felt that in omitting
the name, he made his disloyalty something less shame-
ful, " she had such an awful time during her first
marriage. Her husband was an awful brute, and that
makes one so sorry for her. I feel that I must do
something to make up, you see."

" Hm ! " There was a great deal of meaning in
the sound, which cannot be expressed in writing.
" Hm ! " And then, after a slight pause. Cairns, hav-
ing wavered, gave rein to his temperament, indulg'^:d

466 JACOB STAHL

his taste for generosity. " Did your wife tell you
that her first husband was a brute? "

" Yes ! That is . . . Oh yes ! definitely."

" You know he is n't dead? " Possibly Cairns anti-
cipated that the sentence would be dramatic. Jacob
received it with a slightly heightened colour and lied
loyally.

" Of course. I heard the whole story long ago."
He intended, and left the impression, that Lola had
confided all particulars before their marriage.

" You 've never met him, I suppose? " Cairns still
had a minor theatricalism in waiting.

" No ! not to speak to. I saw him once. In the
street."

" Tall, rather handsome man with a dark mous-
tache? "

Jacob nodded. " Why? Do you know him? " he
asked.

" My dear old chap," Cairns' tone had become
aifectionate, paternally affectionate, " I met him in
business about fifteen months ago, and, to tell you the
truth, that is why I have n't been to Bloomsbury
Square for so long." This time he made his
hit.

" This is awfully interesting ! " said Jacob. " Do
you mind telling me what he 's like ? "

" Charming man. Perfectly dehghtful man.
Frank, open-handed, scrupulous to a fault."

" Can it be the same? There must be some
mistake."

" Look here, my dear fellow, Wilmot is a dear
friend of mine, now " — this was true — " and I
simply could n't bear to come to Bloomsbury Square
after certain things he told me."

" Can you tell me? Do you think I ought to
know? "

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 467

" Yes, I think you ought, if you are ever to have
any happiness in your married Hfe."

" Go on, then," said Jacob ; he felt disloyal, but
he desired the truth intensely.

" You see, your wife led poor old Wilmot just
such a dance as I have no doubt she 's been leading
you. She was jealous in the first place, stupidly
jealous. She 'd wear herself thin over the silliest
little trifles. Wilmot 's told me that he was almost
afraid to take his hat off to another woman, and
they never kept a servant more than a month."

" Nor do we," murmured Jacob.

" Wilmot stood it all, patiently. He 's a dear
fellow, but much too tender-hearted; the trouble
was that she killed his love for her."

Jacob sighed and moved restlessly. Nothing
should make him confess that his love, also, had
been killed. " And then, I suppose, he went after
other women.? " he asked.

" Not other women. There was one woman."

"And then?"

" Then there was the devil to pay. One night
Wilmot came in and found his wife on the bed cov-
ered with blood. She had pretended to cut her
throat, the merest scratch, but it looked pretty bad
when he first caught sight of her, as you may im-
agine. After that she always held the threat of
suicide over him. She won on that count. Wilmot
gave up seeing the other woman, but he and his wife
slept in different rooms."

" Yes.'' " prompted Jacob, " and how did it end.? "
So that was how she got that scar, he was thinking;
it was a sham suicide to frighten her husband and,
doubtless, to frighten herself as well. Perhaps she
had meant to cut her throat, and had quailed at the
first tentative stroke of the razor. Afterwards she

468 JACOB STAHL

had played her farce, no doubt, with wonderful
effect.

" It ended by Mrs. Wilmot's running away with
another man. She 's full of emotion, always ready
to fall in love with any man who will adore her, and
then she sets to work to kill the love that 's been
offered."

" What became of the man she ran away with.? "

" He learned the inwardness of her character be-
fore the decree was made absolute, and made good
his chance of escape."

" He must have been a poor sort of creature,"
commented Jacob.

" Yes. He was an artist. He 'd made his own
way in the world, I believe. No pretensions to being
a gentleman."

"Oh! I see!"

" The point of this, my dear chap, the reason I
have told you all this is that you need n't feel that
you have to be so tender with my lady. It 's a
mistake."

" Yes, I see that it 's a mistake. I understand
that, but I doubt whether I have the temperament
or the inclination to break her spirit. But I 'm in
your debt. Cairns, you 've lifted a shadow."

Yes ! Cairns had lifted a shadow. He had played
the philanthropist with rare success. He had been
generous, this time without effort, for the thing he
gave was not his to give. And, as always, he had
given carelessly, easily. He had taken the course
which, at the moment, seemed the best.

His last words to Jacob as they left the club were :
" Make up your mind, my dear fellow, that you
must put your foot down. I have had experience."

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 469

3.

Jacob turned on to the Embankment, and walked
up towards Blackfriars. After he had passed under
Waterloo Bridge he stopped, leaned his arm on the
granite coping of the river wall, and looked out on
to the river.

The tide was nearly high, and a stiff westerly
wind was blowing down the river; the water was
slapping against the sides of a string of barges that
were waiting to go down on the ebb. It was a brac-
ing evening. There had been rain during the day,
but, now, the sun was shining, warming to a rich
saffron the top curves of a bank of cumulus that was
piled up in the South; a majestic bank of cloud
that nevertheless had something slightly artificial
about it.

Jacob watched the clouds idly. He was not think-
ing of his own troubles at the moment, his perspec-
tive was gone, he was engrossed in measuring the
height of the cloud opposite to him. The great
question in his mind was whether it was coming up
or blowing over. If it came up, it might rain again.

" You '11 excuse me, sir," said a quiet voice at his
elbow, " I would n't speak to you, believe me, if I
was n't 'ard pressed. But 'unger '11 make a man
do things as 'e 'd 'ave been ashamed of doin' in
better days."

Jacob gave the man a shilling, and escaped from
his profuse gratitude. He had seemed a fairly de-
cent sort of man, even if he had dropped his " h's."
He had been really grateful. What stood between
him, Jacob Stahl, and such a condition.'* The ques-
tion forced itself upon him. The answer was not
" £800 and a certain technical knowledge," but " the

470 JACOB STAHL

necessity for effort." The mere thought of it made
him feel sick. And then there was the problem of
Lola.

She had suffered a miraculous change in his eyes
during the past hour and a half. All that had been
wonderful about her had gone now, and though he
had been relieved of the heaviest part of his burden,
he was regretting, bitterly, that there was no won-
der left. No ! he need no longer bear with her
moods because her first husband had been a brute.
Her first husband was as good as, or better than,
Jacob himself. He saw her suddenly as a new per-
sonaUty, he saw her from outside with perfect de-
tachment ; she was a silly, misguided woman, too
fond of pleasure, too fond of power, too full of a
stupid, meaningless vanity which compelled her to
make use of her power on the smallest occasion.
And with it all she was full of emotion, she was
capable of being " swept off her feet," by a sudden
romantic passion for an artist who had no preten-
sions to being a gentleman, or a person such as
Jacob Stahl. He saw clearly enough, now, that she
had not loved either the artist or himself. She had
been flattered by their admiration, had given her-
self up to emotion, and deceived herself into imagin-
ing that she was profoundly in love. She deceived
herself in many other ways. She believed she had
been horribly ill-treated and misused. Perhaps she
had in a way; but it was entirely her own fault.
Not that that made it any better. She could not
help it. She was incapable of loving; possibly she
knew it, and strove desperately to deceive herself
into the belief that, at last, love had come to her.
The point was that she was made that way. She
could not help it. It was her temperament, and she
had not the intellectual force to combat it. The

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 471

mystery which had always enshrouded her was swept
away. That talk with Cairns had left Lola's soul
naked. The sight did not repulse him, he was not
horrified, he was only slightly contemptuous and
very sorry. He pitied her. She had pretended to
be so much, and had pretended so magnificently, and
she was so little. When one had the key . . .

He found himself at Blackfriars, and took a 'bus
as far as Theobald's Road. He had begun to prac-
tise small economies, absurd in their relation to the
waste that went on in Bloomsbury Square.

It was almost a shock to him when he got in, to
find that Lola was looking just as usual, and was,
moreover, in a mood he knew only too well.

" Where, on earth, have you been all the after-
noon.'' " she asked.

" I had tea with Cairns at his club," replied Jacob.

Lola's eyebrows went up. " How did that
happen.'' "

" I met him in the street."

" Did he explain his rudeness to me? "

*' His rudeness ? "

" Don't you call it rudeness to take no notice of
my invitations.? "

" I suppose he had his reasons."

" Do you think it quite a nice thing to do, to hob-
nob with a man who has been rude to your wife? "

Oh ! no ! nothing was altered — yet. She was
going to work herself into a pretty fury, now, be-
cause he had had tea with Cairns. It was a form
of jealousy. Perhaps she was suspicious of Cairns.
When one came to think of it, she must always be
living on the edge of a precipice ; she never knew
when some accident might not break away the ground
from under her. She was right to be angry on this
occasion; there was no doubt of it.

47a JACOB STAHL

" Why don't you answer me ? Have n*t you got
a word to say for yourself? " The tone was
imperative.

" The trouble is that I have too many words," he
said slowly.

" What do you mean.'' What has Mr. Cairns been
saying.? "

Jacob made a movement with his hand as if to
sweep aside the imperiousness of her demands. He
rose and walked over to the window. Ought he to
give Cairns away.'' was the question in his mind.
How could he use his knowledge unless he did.'' He
had already said too much. She would know in-
stantly, now, if he made any statement, whence his
information came. Did it matter.? Cairns would
never come to the house again. Cairns was a good
fellow, he would understand.

Lola's instinct played her false this time. She
had no suspicion of the truth. She thought Jacob
was ashamed of wasting time, and hobnobbing with
a man whom she had taken off her visiting-Hst.

" Well ! Perhaps, when you have quite done
dreaming, you will have the ordinary politeness to
answer my question."

He had so httle capacity for being cruel. At this
moment while she was actually bullying him, he was
sorry for her.

" You see . . ." he said, and halted. Then he
came back to her chair. " I 've learned something
this afternoon."

" What do you mean ? " The reply was petulant ;
still, she had no suspicion.

" Cairns knows your first husband. He — he told
me everything." Jacob did not look at her. He
wished to spare her humiliation.

" Well? " Jacob had not seen that she had

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 473

quailed; the monosyllable which she snapped out
gave no indication of fear.

"Well," repeated Jacob. "That's all. I know
the truth." He lifted his eyes and faced her.

" Tchah ! " The sound expressed supreme dis-
gust and contempt. Her eyes met his boldly.
" Really, Jimmy, you are the most absurdly credu-
lous person I 've ever met. You don't suppose, for
one instant, that Ed,gar would tell the truth, do
you.'' Even to such a poor, spiritless creature as
Mr. Cairns. If Edgar told the truth, no decent
man would speak to him."

It was the best possible defence. Two years ago,
it would have convinced Jacob. He would have be-
lieved her, and cut Cairns dead ever afterwards.
But this afternoon he had been given the key to a
puzzle, a distracting puzzle which he had often wor-
ried over, but which would never come right. Now
he had seen the solution, it was all so simple, so
ridiculously simple. No evidence could shake his con-
viction that that key was the right and only key.
It worked. It solved the problem. No further test
was needed.

" I know what he told Cairns was the truth,'* said
Jacob simply.

" Oh ! of course, you would believe any one be-
fore me."

" Your own fault," replied Jacob. " You 've lied
to me so often."

She kept her dignity. She rose calmly and looked
at him with intensest scorn. " After that, there is
no more to be said. No one with the instincts of a
gentleman would call a woman a liar." She swept
out of the room.

Curiously, Jacob was not upset. He lighted a
cigarette, and began to read. " I suppose the worst

474 JACOB STAHL

is over," was his thought. " She '11 have to come
down from the high horse."

4.

The coming down was not accomplished without
pain. That night, after dinner, she was like a mad-
woman. She played every part in her repertoire, but
the one that stood out from the rest was the role of
despair. She paced up and down the room moaning.
" Oh ! I can't bear it all over again," she wept, " not
all over again." Jacob watched her detachedly, and
knew that she was convincing herself of her own mis-
ery, that it was all a pose, worked-up, deliberate in
inception, deliberate until she had associated herself
with the part. After that she really suffered.

All this acting left him cold. He found it difficult
even to pity her. She may not have realized this, she
was, perhaps, too carried away by her own emotions
to see that she was overdoing it. At ten o'clock she
suddenly rushed from the room and went downstairs.
Jacob followed, full of suppressed irritation. He
caught her as she was unbolting the hall-door.

" What are you doing.'' Where are you going.'' "
he said, and laid a hand on her arm.

" Let me go ! Oh ! let me go ! " she said. " I 'm
going away, now, at once, for ever."

" Don't be absurd ! " replied Jacob. " You can't
go like that ! "

The altercation continued, she kept repeating:
"Oh! let me go!"

He lost patience at last, and led her forcibly back
up the stairs and into her own bedroom. She threw
herself down on the bed and moaned.

Jacob sat down in an armchair and smoked, pon-
dering this new version of the sham suicide. Lola

THE INDISCRETION OF CAIRNS 475

lay still, and presently he found himself growing
sleepy. He did not resist the inclination. He pulled
another chair towards him, and put his feet up.
When he awoke he found that Lola was still lying
dressed on the bed, but she had wound the counter-
pane round her. She was sleeping soundly.

Jacob undressed and got into bed.

When he woke he found that Lola had, some time
during the night, come to bed without waking him.

She spoke to him as if nothing unusual had hap-
pened. She spoke to him in a form of baby-language
they had invented, soon after they were first engaged.

5.

After this night he enjoyed a period of compara-
tive peace. She was humble again, she went about
the house with a chastened air, and was, for ever,
trying to make love to him. That bored him
unspeakably.

Once, a day or two after her benefit performance of
histrionics, she asked him if he still loved her, and he
replied, " No," as gently as he could. He wanted to
have done with pretence. He was quite willing to
keep up appearances before the world, but why need
they pretend in private? After that reply, which she
received calmly, but with a great appearance of sad-
ness, she was evidently intent on trying to win him
back to her. She had never admitted the truth of
Cairns' story. More than once she referred to it re-
proachfully. " How could you believe that ? " she
said, with the air of a martyr.

Sometimes at night — they were occupying sepa-
rate bedrooms, now — Jacob wished that he could
love her again. " If only she loved me," was the re-

476 JACOB STAHL

frain that rang in his mind, " but I know she does n't,
she only wants to get back the old ascendency."

He had had another little j ob — a fifteen-hundred-
pound house — from Bradley, and was surprised to
find that he could take an interest in working on the
drawings. It only meant a £75 commission, and he
would not see any of that for some time to come —
it was too late to save the smash — but he was genu-
inely interested. It was a straightforward job, and
he liked his client. He decided to put off the grand
smash, the leaving of Bloomsbury Square, and the
return to the work of an assistant, until the job was
out of hand.

The thought of that coming crash was always with
him, but he postponed it week by week. Next month
— perhaps . . .

He had been his own master for so long that the
thought of office slavery was become repulsive.

Sometimes he thought : " If only I were alone, I
should n't mind."

CHAPTER XXX

EECEUDESCENCE
1.

Jacob had often dreamed of Madeline — not only in
his waking thoughts. The picture of her had fre-
quently been presented to him in sleep, with that
vividness which is beyond the attainment of the con-
scious imagination. Many times he had waked with
a memory of her so enthralling that it had been pain
to realize she was separated from him by something
more than alienating distance. Many of these dreams
were foolish, involving the usual absurdities, but the
waking impression was always the same — a longing
for her presence, no matter whether his dream had
been one of repossession, or the more usual one of
the interference of some incomprehensible obstacle.
In these dreams Madeline was sometimes married,
sometimes a widow, but generally he dreamed of her
as she used to be among the old surroundings. He
woke to long for the old days returned, and tried,
vainly, to revive the ecstasy of the dream by an effort
of his waking imagination. After he and Lola occu-
pied separate bedrooms, these dreams recurred more
frequently. It may have been that he slept deeper,
or it may be that our dreams are affected by the near
presence of another sleeper.

In those days Jacob still clung fondly to a few of
his old superstitions, and he tried to deceive himself
into the belief that these dreams were premonitory.
Whenever he could make an opportunity he went into

478 JACOB STAHL

the West End ; Bond Street, Regent Street, or Picca-
dilly. On Sunday mornings he and Lola used often
to go to Hyde Park for Church Parade, but he was
never rewarded by the least glimpse of the celebrated
Lady Paignton.

The months that followed the " great scene," as
Jacob labelled it, were in some ways more endurable
than the years which had preceded that determining
episode, but happiness was far to seek. He had
given up hope of happiness, it had become a ques-
tion of whether the state of being was more, or less,
endurable.

Lola, that strangely adaptable personality, had
apparently acquiesced in the conditions which were
becoming established by habit. She bullied him less,
she went out less, she entertained less ; she was more
like the woman Jacob thought he had married. His
chief dread, now, was the return of sentimentality.
While that was fended off, he found Hfe just endur-
able despite the increasing gloom of the financial
shadow which lay over him. But the thought of any
re-establishment of the old relations between himself
and his wife was utterly repugnant. He did not hate
her, but certainly he did not love her. Sexually, she
attracted him not at all ; as a friend, she was insuffi-
cient, too wrapped in the contemplation of her own
personality, her own ambitions and despairs. More-
over, he did not trust her. A friend one has learned
to distrust is a friend no longer; mutual trust is the
only basis for friendship.

As the months went by and Christmas approached,
Jacob was forced to the contemplation of the need
for financial reconstruction. He put it off till the new
year. In January his assets, including commissions
due to him, were under £200. He had practically no
debts. If they had not been living more economically

RECRUDESCENCE 479

during the past seven months, the smash would have
come sooner. In looking back, Jacob used to divine
the finger of Fate in many apparently imconnected
events. That chance meeting with Caims, for in-
stance! A matter of seconds would have made the
difference; he and Cairns would not have met, and
Jacob's life would have taken another course. He
sought to find Fate kindly in its interposition, but
all the good that resulted he found in the gathering
of experience. That became his philosophy. " Oh !
well, it 's experience," he would reflect, and hope,
blindly, that Fate had a purpose in store for him, a
purpose which involved a man tutored by such expe-
rience as he had suffered.

One morning towards the end of January, he de-
cided that the life he and Lola were living must go
on no longer. They must let the house in Bloomsbury
Square, furnished. They must go into rooms. They
must do all the other things he had foreseen must be
done one day. It would be misery; it would be
almost disgrace; it would be failure; but the thing
must come. If it were postponed much longer they
would be absolutely penniless.

As was his custom on these occasions, he decided to
take a lonely walk in order to brace himself for the
ordeal of acquainting Lola with the trouble and with
his proposed remedy.

It was a clean, frosty morning, with a keen North-
East wind that kept the air clear. Jacob climbed on
to the top of a 'bus, and rode down to the Marble
Arch. He intended to walk through the Park, but
the Park looked bleak and deserted, so he decided to
face the wind and walk home instead. However, when
he reached the top of Bond Street, he changed his
mind. The wind was so bitter when one faced it.
Bond Street presented itself as a refuge.

480 JACOB STAHL

He was a little below Grafton Street when the
unanticipated, the unexpected happened to him.

Its first appearance took the form of an almost
unnoticed victoria, with a dashing pair of bays that
passed him, and drew up at a shop a few paces ahead.
The footman who got down to stand by, while the
occupant of the carriage alighted, and to open the
shop door for her, stepped rudely in the direct line
of Jacob's advance. Jacob, slightly petulant, took
the inside of the pavement to avoid him, and stared
directly at the alighting occupant of the victoria.
One of the lessons he had learned from Cairns was to
despise those whom he had once spoken of in a boyish
phrase as the " great ones of the earth." His
thought, as he stepped round the mannerless footman,
was : " Who is this person that needs the whole pave-
ment of Bond Street? " He was distinctly resentful.
He would have liked to be a little rude to the aristo-
crat who drove in a victoria with two horses and two
servants.

He stared straight into the tawny eyes of Madeline
Paignton.

She was a lovely thing to stare at. Any man might
be forgiven for staring long and assiduously. She
was dressed in dark furs, which gave value to her
brilliant colouring. The small bonnets of those days
did not hide her magnificent hair. The drive in the
cold air had not heightened unduly the natural warmth
of her complexion ; indeed, she had a complexion which
never lost its beauty and clearness. But the chief
impression she gave was of her superabundant, glori-
ous vitality; she was feminine, essentially feminine,
and she was so buoyant, so eager, she had such a zest
for life in her eyes, in her every movement.

RECRUDESCENCE 481

Jacob caught his breath and stared like a fool. He
forgot to raise his hat. And Madeline, one foot on
the step of the victoria, paused and returned for a
second his wonderstruck gaze.

An inspiration came to Jacob. He was the first to
speak. He raised his hat and smiled. " Quelle
betise ! " he said. It had been a catchword between
them in the Felmersdale days, a reminiscence of their
first meeting. But inwardly he quailed. She might
cut him.

" My dear Jimmy, where did you spring from .'' "

She, too, had been taken aback for a moment, but
her recovery was quicker than his, and she greeted
him, now, as if they had parted a few days before,
parted as friends or acquaintances, and not with bitter
recriminations and insults.

" Come in and help me choose a wedding-present
for Nina," she went on quickly. " I have n't the least
idea what to get for her. She 's not hke the ordinary
person."

Jacob found himself following this vision of loveli-
ness into an elaborate shop. He had had his revenge
on the rude footman. The idea presented itself
strongly to him as that menial deferentially held the
door open.

" Now, do be helpful," said Madeline to Jacob, as
she settled herself in the chair brought forward by a
most deferential shopman. She loosened the furs at
her throat, and pulled back the heavy cuflFs of the
long coat from her wrists.

" Give me something to go on," replied Jacob,
striving after perfect self-possession, though he was
trembling, and thankful for the chair which had
been thrust upon him. " Who 's Nina going to
marry.? "

" Oh ! a parson, of course. That 's why I 'm here

482 JACOB STAHL

instead of at a jeweller's. Diamonds and things are
much too giddy for Nina."

Jacob looked round the shop for inspirations. The
motive of the place was leather. Leather in a thou-
sand forms, from the daintiest of gold-bound frip-
peries enshrined in the glass cases of the counter, to
the vision of solid and substantial portmanteaux which
could be glimpsed down the vista of a skylit showroom
in the rear. A wonderful shop, such as can be found
only in the great cities. Here was every article a
man or woman could wish for, and yet none that had
not the essential material of leather incorporated in
some detail of its manufacture. Still, no inspiration
came to Jacob from his regard of all this super-
abundance, and the very superior person behind the
counter who had displaced the almost equally superb
assistant, was waiting graciously for my lady's orders.
His superior presence embarrassed Jacob. The man
was so deferential in his manner, it seemed impolite to
keep him waiting, and he did not proffer the usual
question: " About what price.? " It was a hint that
Jacob had been waiting for and expecting. But this
shopman had the air of serving royalty; he did not
apparently dare to begin a conversation. His place
was to answer questions.

" You 're not thinking ! " said Madeline. " It is n't
fair. Oh ! do buck up. This shop 's so hot." She
threw back the furs still more from her throat. Jacob
was conscious that she was regarding him with inter-
est. He ceased searching the recesses of the shop
with his eyes, and met her look. He was hoping
secretly that the shopman was not offended by her
candid criticism of the heat of his shop.

" I 'm the most hopeless person at things of this
sort," he said apologetically. " I can't think of any-
thing but the hackneyed dressing-case."

RECRUDESCENCE 488

" Oh ! that 's all right," replied Madeline care-
lessly, " but anything decent runs you into such a
heap of money." For the first time she threw a look
to the shopman, and released his tongue.

" We 've a very nice dressing-case at sixty guineas,
my lady," he said, " if you would care to see it.'' "

" Do you think Nina 's worth all that.? " asked
Madeline of Jacob.

" Depends on the point of view," ventured Jacob.
" Had n't you better ask her fiance.? "

Madeline smiled. " Perhaps I had better ask
Arthur on this occasion," she said.

Jacob inferred from her tone that Arthur was Lord
Paignton. " Anyway," he said, " you '11 admit that
I 'm hardly in a position to make a valuation of
Nina's merits."

The superb assistant who had been displaced, but
who had been hovering in the vicinity, had sped away
in answer to some mysterious sign made by his supe-
rior ; a slight movement of one of the hands ; almost
imperceptible. The assistant returned now, and def-
erentially laid a dressing-case on the counter.

" We may as well look at it," remarked Madeline,
and it was instantly opened and displayed in all its
magnificence.

" Does n't look bad, does it ? " said Madeline, ex-
amining some of the gold-mounted fittings. ** It 's
rather small, of course."

" Yes, my lady. It 's what we call a medium-size,"
said the shopman.

" Of course, Arthur will be ratty about it, but I
must give her something decent," said Madeline to
Jacob, and she shook her head as though trying to
shake off the heat of the shop " Come along," she
went on, rising, " it 's stifling in here."

The assistant, in answer to another imperceptible

484 JACOB STAHL

sign from the expert behind the counter, was already
at the door, and before Madeline was fairly on her
feet the expert himself was, also, in the front of the
shop. He bowed them out with grace, and without
initiating a single observation. Jacob had never
shopped in this style before. Madeline was, indeed,
now among the " great ones of the earth." There
was no question of payment or of whether the " things
were to be sent." My lady expected her will to be
understood even when it was not expressed in words.
The marvel of it all was that the expert behind the
counter had such a perfect comprehension of her
wishes.

Jacob stood and watched Madeline enter the vic-
toria. He assumed that the adventure would go no
further than this. He had no intention of forcing
himself upon her. They had not shaken hands, so
casual had been their greeting, and he did not ex-
pect her to shake hands with him, now. He could
not rid himself of the impression that she had con-
descended in speaking to him. The old relations
were dead for ever. The thought of them gave him
no sense of familiarity with the woman he saw under
these new and strange conditions.

" Come along ! What are you dreaming about ? "
She was making room for him beside her in the vic-
toria. She did not ask him whether he had anything
else to do, any other affairs in hand. She merely
said, " Come along," and made room for him.

Jacob hesitated. It was not the thought of Lola
which restrained him, but his shyness. In the past
three years and a half he had lost much of his ner-
vousness. He could talk with assurance, be perfectly
at his ease with his visitors in Bloomsbury Square,

RECRUDESCENCE 486

or when he went out to the house of an acquaintance
with Lola. But this was different. The mere sight
of Madeline seemed to have taken him back to his
boyhood again. When he talked to Eric all his
learning seemed to fall away from him, and now,
when he met Madeline, all his assurance and training
in the usages of society seemed to have disappeared
in like manner. Was it not probable that Madeline
still regarded him as a raw country youth, even as
Eric regarded him as an ignoramus? The truth was
that neither Madeline nor Eric held the opinions
of Jacob with which he credited them; but because
he believed them to hold these opinions he descended
in thought to the level of the estimate he imagined
Eric and Madeline had formed of him.

" What are you waiting for? " asked Madeline
with a touch of surprise.

" I 'm afraid I can't come, now," replied Jacob.
" I Ve got some work I ought to do."

" Bosh ! " returned Madeline and held the rug back
for him to enter.

" Are you married yet? " she asked him as the
bays danced off down Bond Street. Jacob had no
idea where they were going.

" Yes. I 've been married for over three years,"
he said.

" Living in London ? "

" Yes ! I 've got a house in Bloomsbury Square ! "
It still seemed rather a wonderful thing to Jacob
that he should have a house of his own.

Madeline passed it by as a matter of no impor-
tance. " Have you been in London long? " was her
next question.

" I came up a few weeks after — after the last
time I saw you," he said. " I 've been in London
ever since."

486 JACOB STAHL

She certainly did not wince at his reference to
that episode in the Elmover spinny, but she looked
at him with a smile half interested, half quizzical.

" You soon got tired of the country? " she said.

" After — after that. Yes," replied Jacob. It
was very like the beginning of a flirtation.

" Did the country lose its attractions after — after
that? " she asked, imitating him.

" Well — of course," replied Jacob. He was near
her, touching her furs. This was more real than his
dreams, yet something was wanting.

" Why ' of course ' .'' " she laughed. " After you
had done with me for ever, — you told me you had,
you know — what did it matter.'* "

" No ! It was you . . ." he began and then
stopped. He realized suddenly that they seemed to
be drifting back into the old relations. Friendship
between them could never be possible. And Made-
line was the Countess of Paignton, now, and he was
a bankrupt architect married to a wife he did not
love. The thing was absurd.

" Don't you think I had better get out here ^ "
was his conclusion to the interrupted sentence.

" No ! Why .? Come and have lunch. There 'U
be nobody there who matters, only Arthur and his
sister."

Lunch.? It was a paralyzing suggestion. He was
about to refuse unconditionally, but the victoria,
which had pranced into Berkeley Square, drew up
before one of the houses, the door of which flew
open as if by magic and revealed the figure of a
dignified butler backed by two footmen.

" Oh ! . . ." he began. He was genuinely scared.

Madeline touched his hand under cover of the fur
rug. " Do come," she said, looking ipto his eyes.

RECRUDESCENCE 487

" Come upstairs and see Arthur," said Madeline
imperiously as soon as they were in the hall. Jacob
found himself almost miraculously stripped of his
hat, stick, gloves and overcoat, a man to every ar-
ticle, he believed. He was led, still resisting men-
tally, up a wide staircase. It seemed wide after the
staircase in Bloombury Square, and the stair carpet
was inches deep in pile; it felt like soft moss under
his feet. It seemed to typify the whole atmosphere
of the place to Jacob. He wanted to walk on tip-toe,
though it was obviously unnecessary ; he wanted to
move quietly and mysteriously. This place was more
dignified than any ordinary church. Once in Paris
he had wandered into the church of La Madeleine at
the commencement of high mass. The impression
he had received on that occasion was the one he re-
ceived now. He was awed, and inwardly he was curs-
ing himself for a fool and trying to remember some-
thing of Cairns' dissertations on the feebleness of the
British aristocracy.

Moreover he had lost Madeline. She had sped
upstairs, once she had made sure of him, at a pace
he could not emulate. When he reached the first
floor he was confronted with three doors. One of
them was open, and he heard Madeline's voice. He
ventured In timidly and nearly slipped on a highly
polished parquet floor.

A short, withered-looking man of between forty
and fifty was lying back, deep in the recesses of an
arm-chair drawn up to the fire. He was not impres-
sive in appearance, a little man noticeably bald, with
short stumpy features, their stumpiness accentuated
by a ridiculously large, dark moustache.

488 JACOB STAHL

" Oh ! Arthur ! " Madeline was saying, as Jacob
paused at the doorway, " we must do the thing de-
cently." It was evident that she had had time to
explain the nature of her Bond Street purchase while
Jacob was tremblingly ascending the stairs.

It is not difficult to be easy and nonchalant in im-
agination; Jacob had done the thing a hundred
times, but in the present situation what could he do,
decently.'' Madeline was balancing on the back of
a chair, her face away from the door. She could n't
see Jacob and had probably forgotten all about him
for the moment. Lord Paignton was staring moodily
into the fire and had his profile to Jacob. For all
intents and purposes Jacob was intruding on a family
quarrel, a listener to things that Lord Paignton
would probably not wish to confide to a bankrupt
and utterly unknown architect from Bloomsbury.
Should he cough .-^ He did better by good luck.
Near the door was a fine Hepplewhite bookcase with
a glass front divided into lozenge-shaped panels.
Jacob took four steps into the room and turning
his back on the disputants began to examine the
titles of the books. It did not matter that he could
hardly read the titles, it was an occupation.

" My dear girl," Lord Paignton was saying,
" surely you can distinguish between doing a thing
decently and doing it recklessly. . . ."

" Oh! all right! " broke in Madeline. " Send the
thing back when it comes and get some rotten thing,
yourself. I don't care, anything 's good enough for
Nina and her old archdeacon or whatever he is.
Oh! by the way, I brought someone back to
lunch. . . ." She disengaged herself from the tilted
chair on which she was swaying and turned round.
" Oh ! there you are ! " she said to Jacob. " Here !
this is Arthur, you know," and to her husband she

RECRUDESCENCE 489

proffered the information that this was " Jimmy
Stahl," no more. After this introduction she went
out of the room with a rush, saying as she went
that she was going to " get her things off."

Jacob had made some kind of a bow when his name
was mentioned. Lord Paignton had hitched himself
a few inches forward in his chair and nodded. There
was nothing for Jacob now but to go over to the
fire and make conversation until Madeline returned.
He had never spoken to an Earl before, and despite
all the dissertations of Cairns, Jacob's early impres-
sions were strong upon him. He could not for the
life of him help regarding Lord Paignton as a supe-
rior creation. To be nonchalant at the moment was
clean beyond him.

" Beastly weather ! " muttered Lord Paignton.
" Sit down, won't you.^ "

There was nothing for It but the weather.
Jacob prophesied snow with desperate certainty.
He was pricking himself on to be emphatic. Lola
had always told him that he was too apologetic,
venturing opinions as if he expected them to be
contradicted.

" Yes ! Should n't be surprised," replied Lord
Paignton without enthusiasm.

A brief silence followed. Jacob was considering
and rejecting a list of subjects; they were all either
too banal or else referred to the things one did not
talk about in society, if the precedents afforded by
fiction could be relied upon. He tried to appear
unconcerned and sat well back in his chair.

" I suppose you did n't notice whether the Bir-
chester by-election result was out.? " asked Lord
Paignton.

Politics! This was one of the barred subjects
according to fiction, but barred or not it was a

490 JACOB STAHL

straw, and Jacob, drowning in embarrassment,
grasped at it eagerly.

" No, it was n't out when we came in," he said ;
" but it 's a cert for the Government, don't you
think?"

" X says not," replied Lord Paignton, men-
tioning a prominent member of the Opposition. " He
was speaking down there and I saw him at the Club
last night. He seemed quite sure we should win the
seat."

Plainly Lord Paignton was on the other side in
politics. That was to be expected. But how could
a mere reader of the Daily Post argue with a man
who met ex-Ministers at his club, and spoke of them
as one might speak of Jones or Brown. Still con-
versation had to be made. Jacob took the easy
course.

" Really ! " he said. " That 's very interesting.
No doubt having been down there he would be able
to gauge the feeling of the constituency ? "

It was poor stuff, but it served to pass the time
till Madeline should reappear. The conversation re-
solved itself into a series of questions and answers.
Jacob could, at least, frame intelligent questions,
and he stuck to the game with pertinacity.

6.

Lunch furnished other embarrassments. There
were so many different kinds of wine and a separate
glass for each. He was a little uncertain which
glass should be used. This was at the outset. That
difficulty was solved for him by the butler. Jacob
began with hock and stuck to it. No one urged
him to try a change, but he had been prepared to

RECRUDESCENCE 491

say that he preferred to keep to one wine, to hint
that it was a peculiarity of his.

Then there were so many dishes. They came at
him from the sideboard without making any pre-
liminary debut on the table, and the menu was in
French and very few of the words on it were intel-
ligible to him. However, he studied it carefully and
worked on the principle of accepting two courses
out of every three. He soon found that it did not
matter if he left half. No one protested, and the
footman was always ready to take his plate away.
He ate a good deal of bread.

As to conversation, he was saved by Lady Alice
Crawley, Lord Paignton's sister. She was a harsh,
somewhat untidy-looking woman of fifty or there-
abouts, with a thin nose utterly unlike her brother's
snub. Madeline had mentioned the fact that Mr.
Stahl was an architect and Lady Alice was an en-
thusiast on architecture. It is true that the style
she admired was classic — she seemed to know Rome
and Athens intimately — and frequently posed Jacob
with questions as to examples of which he knew no
more than the names ; it is true, also, that she as-
sumed, at once, that Jacob must have studied archi-
tecture on the borders of the Mediterranean, but he
contrived to " keep his end up," as he would have
phrased it, and the duologue between him and Lady
Alice formed the staple of conversation during the
meal.

Nevertheless at the back of his mind was the con-
sciousness that he was really " out of it " all, that
he was only pretending, and that his pretence must
be patent not only to Lord Paignton and his sister
but, also, to the servants. And he did not pretend
to himself that he was enjoying this plunge into the
circles of high society, his chief wish was to be away

492 JACOB STAHL

in some place where he could be free. He hated the
restraint that was being imposed upon him.

After lunch Madeline snared him. Lord Paignton
went to his club, nodding a casual good-bye. Lady
Alice had disappeared.

" Come into my room," said Madeline. " It 's
much cosier there."

Jacob followed her up to the second floor, a little
scared. " Her room.? " He wondered what she
meant by " her room."

He found it was a sitting-room and was conscious
of relief. He was a little bewildered. Madeline was
so unexpected.

She drew an arm-chair up to the fire and indicated
another for Jacob. " Now let 's be snug for a bit
and talk of old times," she said, and passed him a
silver box of cigarettes.

There was nothing subtle or incomprehensible
about Madeline. She was a lovely animal with a
synthetic brain ; purel}'^ creative ; the process of in-
duction was unknown to her by experience. She
lived fully, she outraged the feelings of her sister
and her sister-in-law, and she defied her husband,
" You 're going too far," he had said recently, and
she had replied that " he had his remedy." He had,
and he was disinclined to use it. His first wife had
died childless. Madeline had given him a magnifi-
cently healthy heir. But it was not only for the
boy's sake that he shrank from divorcing Madeline.
His own life had been far from a blameless one, but
Madeline had been a new experience. He loved her
passionately and hated her viciously by turns, but

RECRUDESCENCE 493

even in his periods of hate he could not reconcile
himself to make a gift of Madeline to some other
man. For that was what divorce proceedings im-
plied. If Madeline had had ambition she might have
won a far more distinguished title than that Paign-
ton had given her. She might, and probably would,
climb higher even now if Paignton gave her oppor-
tunity. So he undertook a course of self-deception
and resolutely shut his eyes to facts. The men at
the Club were welcome to their own opinions — he
was Paignton, and he had a record. This sort of
thing could be lived down.

At the present time Madeline was bored. She was
filling in a fortnight waiting for the frost to give.
She and Paignton had waited in Leicestershire for
two whole weeks with the ground like iron, and then,
at her suggestion, they had come up to town. She
wanted something to do. The sight of Jacob had
suggested an excitement. He revived old memories,
and when Madeline was a little sick of new experi-
ence she was quite willing to live an old one over
again — if she could live it. She had no weakness
for sentimentalities or abstract romance, but if she
were cast for an historical part she could play it
with exuberance though her reading might appear
modem. Moreover, Jacob appealed to her as he did
to many women, though he was sublimely uncon-
scious of the fact. If she had ever been sorry for
anyone in her life, she had been sorry for him. Her
present attitude was a blend of open-handed, careless
generosity and the miser's desire for possession. If
any excuse can be found for her, it must be found in
the fact that she never analyzed her own motives or
criticized her own acts. She seemed to be merely
progressive, to have contradicted in her own person
the law of reaction. Her life represented one cumu-

494 JACOB STAHL

lative diastole, the systole when it came was rapid,
intense and final.

The tete-a-tete was interrupted before Jacob was
half through his first cigarette. The door was flung
open and a small red-haired boy of between three and
four years old burst into the room like a whirlwind.
He made straight for his mother and scrambled
eagerly into her lap, crying, " Hide me, hide me ! "

" Oh ! you little beggar ! " laughed Madeline.
" Don't wriggle so ! "

" Nurse is coming. Hide me, hide me ! " persisted
the heir of the Paigntons.

The nurse, indeed, had arrived. She was stand-
ing demurely at the open door, waiting for her
instructions.

" Oh ! she 's there ! " grumbled Lord Arthur Craw-
ley, catching sight of her. " Why didunt you hide
me.?"

He was a vigorous, handsome little fellow, Jacob
thought. He was wearing a smocked overall which
was now all round his neck, exposing a pair of splen-
didly sturdy legs clad only in the shortest and loosest
of knickerbockers. That common strain introduced
by Lady Felmersdale had done something for the
blood of the Paigntons.

" Shake hands with Jimmy, you rude little beggar,"
said Madeline, " and get off my dress ; you 're mak-
ing a nice mess of mummy's dress."

" Who 's Jimmy ? " asked Lord Arthur, regarding
Jacob with a childish stare.

" A friend of mummy's," replied Madeline.

"Oh! Didn't see you. Howdy do.?" Lord
Arthur tumbled off his mother's lap and shook hands
with Jacob. " Never seen you before," he added,
partly in explanation. Then he turned to his mother.
" I 'm goin' to stay here," he announced.

HECRUDESCENCE 495

" Oh ! no, you 're not, dear," said Madeline, and at
this hint the nurse advanced into the room.

" I am, I am, I am," shouted Lord Arthur vigor-
ously, and as the nurse made a tentative movement
towards him, he hit at her outstretched hand with his
clenched fist. It was quite plain that the nurse was
afraid of him.

Madeline solved the problem. She took him up in
her arms and carried him out of the room, not with
any show of anger, but with a definiteness of purpose
that overruled the will of the child. He submitted
almost quietly. His only protest was a marked ten-
dency to wriggle. The nurse followed, and for a few
minutes Jacob was left alone with his thoughts.

The incident affected him strongly. The picture
of Madeline as a mother would not harmonize with the
picture of the Madeline of Elmover. He was inclined
to attribute many virtues to her as a consequence of
his sight of the little heir of Paignton. This not senti-
mentally, but because he had a fixed set of ideas con-
nected with the ideal of motherhood. It was another
version of his original attitude towards Lola — he
had not been able to picture her as a widow because
she did not wear widow's weeds. So now his habit of
mind compelled him to regard Madeline in a new
light. She was a mother. It seemed to follow as a
natural consequence that she was therefore devoted
to her child, that she would never do anything that
could bring disgrace on that child's name. This was
another of those many rules of life that were broken
for him by experience.

7.

*' He is a little devil," remarked Madeline when she
returned. " And that woman is frightened to death

'496 JACOB STAHL

of him. He bit her a few days ago — really badly — ■
in the arm, but she adores him all the same. Of
course he can do what he likes with her. We shall
have to get an older woman."

This little speech confirmed Jacob's picture of a
maternal Madeline. It put her still further beyond
his reach, but it added a new charm to the many.

For quite a long time the conversation turned on
the vagaries of Lord Arthur Crawley. Then Made-
line became conscious of the approach of boredom.
They were standing still, a thing she could not endure.

" Do you ever go down to Ashby Sutton, now? "
she asked.

" I 've never been since my aunt died," replied
Jacob.

" Oh ! yes. I heard of it. I 'm sorry. I hardly
ever go down now. Mother 's getting worse. You
know. There is nothing to be done, I 'm afraid."
The speech was very reminiscent of the old days, and
they soon fell into other reminiscences.

" You need n't pretend you were so cut up," said
Madeline in reference to a reminiscence of Jacob's,
and for the life of him he could not help saying what
he did. She listened readily enough. He was so
splendidly in earnest ; his love-making was such a
contrast to the facility of the many she had known.

" It is n't a question of having been ' cut up ' ex-
actly," said Jacob. " That happens to anyone. You
see, you definitely shaped my life. I know I 've mar-
ried, but it does n't count — in a way. It never has
counted. No one could ever, possibly, take your
place. I have never even dreamed of anyone else as
I have of you. . . ." He hesitated. He felt that he
had gone rather far.

Madeline was looking at him quite seriously. " It
is funny," she said — her phrases still retained some-

RECRUDESCENCE 497

thing of the schoolroom flavour, " but do you know
/ feel rather like that about «/om."

" Oh ! Madehne ! Not really? "

She nodded, still holding him with her eyes.

He leaned forward out of his chair, and then, grow-
ing bolder, he got up and kneeled beside her. She
put her hands on his shoulders.

She still had a faint line of freckles across the
bridge of her little, straight nose, the result, prob-
ably, of hunting before Christmas. Never, surely,
did any woman have such a skin as hers.

He was within touch of the irradiance of her vital-
ity now. It wrapped him round and intoxicated him.
He hung on the verge of realization for a time that
seemed immense. He could feel the warmth of her
skin. He drank in her beauty with his eyes. He
inhaled the perfume of her individuality.

Then very slowly he bent his head towards her and
touched her cheek; it was just such another kiss as
that he had first given, by the spring on the common.

It may seem an odious comparison, but the rites he
had paid were very similar to those he had omitted
at the Wheatsheaf, when he had earned the contempt
of the Wheatsheaf's landlord.

He stayed. They had tea together. He was reck-
less now of every opinion.

Before he left, Madeline had said she would call at
the house in Bloomsbury Square.

Lola would be gratified, thought Jacob, and she
would never suspect. , . .

8.

He found Lola in the drawing-room entertaining
one of their newer friends, a certain Frank Reade, a
young man of private means who was reading for the
Bar.

498 JACOB STAHT

Jacob was so engrossed in his own affairs that he
did not perceive any signs of embarrassment when he
entered; nor did it occur to him that a visitor who
had dropped in to tea did not usually stay till a
quarter past seven.

" Where have you been all day ? " asked Lola quite
amicably.

" I met Lady Paignton in Bond Street and went
back to lunch with her."

It was a startling announcement, and Lola's eyes
showed that she was startled, but she had no inten-
tion of allowing Mr. Reade to think that the circum-
stance was unusual.

" Oh ! Really ? " she said. " Was Lord Paignton
there.? "

" Yes, and Lady Alice Crawley — his sister, you
know."

" I say ! It 's a quarter past seven. I must be
going," put in Mr. Reade. " I had no idea it was
so late."

When he had gone Lola turned to Jacob.

" Well? " she said, and there was a world of mean-
ing in her tone. It revived memories of the days be-
fore the " great scene."

" She 's coming to call to-morrow," said Jacob.

Lola shrugged her shoulders. " I shan't be at
home," she said. But she was at home.

CHAPTER XXXI

CRISIS
1.

The intrusion of Madeline still further postponed the
financial crisis, but it was accelerating another crisis
which Jacob did not foresee. He had entered on this,
the most wonderful of all his adventures, in a spirit
of recklessness. As a background for future dreams
it was magnificent; as a present experience it was a
perfect anodyne. He could forget his miseries in
Madeline's presence. The memory of earlier ex-
pedients — the last, deliberate cigarette or the ex-
cursion to Burnham Beeches — made him scornful.
He was only just beginning to live, he thought, and
forgot how many times before he had made a begin-
ning. Only one dread overhung him for the moment
— a change of weather. He knew that when the
frost broke, the Paigntons would be off to Leicester-
shire. Madeline had warned him. It is true that
they would be returning to town at the end of April,
but he had an instinct that his footing would be
different in the season, if he had a footing at all.
This was a quiet interlude. In May Lady Paignton
would have too many calls on her time to pay much
attention to a Bloomsbury architect. He realized
that, even in the full glory of Madeline's condescen-
sion. He knew quite well that he was out of it. Lord
Paignton had taken the place of Sir Anthony, a
person to be avoided whenever possible, to be con-
ciliated by Madeline, a person whose movements made

600 JACOB STAHL

the difference between heaven and hell. When Lord
Paignton on one occasion went away for three days,
he left the gates of heaven set wide open behind him,
and Jacob entered with less hesitation than might
have been expected.

Lola's attitude was not one of patient resignation,
and yet her resentment had no effect as an impedi-
ment. Jacob never saw her before lunch, and when
he was at home to that meal, she was always quiet,
subdued; she asked him no questions as to his plans.
It was at night that she became active. Then her
reproaches were full of sting and bitterness. The
subject she avoided every morning was freely aired
any time after dinner, if Jacob chanced to be in.
He did not suspect that there was anything deliberate
or purposive in these tactics ; he was too engrossed
to analyze his domestic relations.

Madeline's call had hardly been a success, but
Mrs. Stahl had had the satisfaction of knowing that
a brougham with a coronet on the panel had paraded
before her door for three-quarters of an hour.
Jacob's prophecy had been fulfilled; it had been
snowing.

Lola had been very gracious, effusive even, and
Jacob had wondered what Madeline would think of
her. Madeline had made herself very much at home,
and had insisted on a visit of inspection to Jacob's
office.

There had been a return call — Lola had insisted
— but Lady Paignton had not been at home. Mrs.
Stahl had a marked vein of snobbishness in her dis-
position. If she had conceived it possible that the
Paigntons would be added to her visiting list, she
might have suffered in silence, but she understood the
situation perfectly. Her husband might go to Berke-
ley Square in Lord Paignton's absence, but Mrs.

CRISIS 501

Stahl would not be invited. Lady Paignton's call
in Bloomsbury Square had been nothing less than an
insult. Lola's mouth and eyes grew harder when
she was alone ; and more and more chastened, sweet
and resigned when Mr. Reade happened to call.
Frank Reade had exactly the same opinion of Jacob
Stahl that Jacob Stahl had had of Edgar Wilmot.

And still the frost held.

It was, now, more than a fortnight since Jacob had
met Madeline in Bond Street.

One morning in February, Jacob, who studied the
meteorological conditions with an earnestness such as
had never been equalled by the very keenest of sports-
men, fancied his morning tub had less sting than
usual. He returned to his analysis of the weather
from the bath-room window.

This was the third morning of fog. The country
had been rejoicing — that part of it which was not
intent on getting in a few more runs that season — in
a hoar-frost; still, cloudless days, perfect weather
for skating where the ice was protected from the
direct influence of the sun. In London these con-
ditions had produced miserable days of cold darkness
and oppression. Yet on this morning the fog, as
seen from the bath-room window, was less stagnant
than it had been. Jacob in his dressing-gown was
distressed ; he dreaded any change. He threw up the
window and peered into the darkness. Undoubtedly
the fog was moving. He caught sight, now and again,
of the outline of bleak trees in the Square; a sil-
houette of intensely black outline against a dirty or-
ange background. As a view it was reminiscent of an
amateur negative. The movement seemed to be com-

502 JACOB STAHL

ing from the south-west. " Damn It ! it does feel
warmer," said Jacob, scowHng. " If the wind comes
from the south-west I 'm done."

He dressed hurriedly and went out on the doorstep
while he waited for breakfast. There was a film of
ice on the lower steps, but the fog was undoubtedly
drifting from the south-west and the air had less bite.
After breakfast he went out and investigated the con-
ditions in the Square gardens. The ground was like
iron, but the fog was lifting. There was even a
gleam or two of sunlight — the first for three days.
Jacob found the gardener pottering about in a small
shed among the bushes.

" What 's it going to do ? " Jacob asked anxiously.

The gardener straightened his back and looked
round the Square doubtfully. " Could n't say,
m'sure ! " he ventured. " Fog 's lifted."

" Yes, I can see that," replied Jacob.

" Should n't be surprised if it turned to rain,"
surmised the gardener, and was slightly startled by
Jacob's vigorous response. It was an expression
be had copied from Cairns.

At a quarter past twelve he had a telegram.
" Come about four. M," That was all right.

It was undoubtedly thawing when he went to Berke-
ley Square, but he thought this might be due to the
.■fTcct of sunshine, though the sun had shone inter-
.(),; tently only in the morning, and for the past three
/i::urs had been completely obscured. He took a
•bus for economy's sake, and sat on his favourite
seat behind the driver.

" Well, this is about the end of it, I fancy ; thank
God ! " said that individual.

" What makes you think that? " said Jacob, who
understood that the remark had reference to the
weather.

CRISIS 603

" I come from the country, I do," replied the
driver. *' I knows the signs. Three white frosts
and then rain, that 's 'ow it goes in my experience.
We shall 'ave rain afore night — thank God ! "

Jacob did not join in the driver's psalm of
thanksgiving.

Madeline met him with news which sounded good
at first hearing.

" Arthur 's gone down to the country ! "

"For long.?"

She nodded.

Jacob looked at her inquiringly. " I suppose I
ought to pretend I 'm not glad.'' " he said.

" I 'm going to-morrow ! " She said it as one
breaking ill news.

" Oh! Maidie! Why.'' Where are you going.'' "

" We had a wire from Melton, this morning."

" But the frost won't be out of the ground for
days yet."

" Depends whether we have any rain," she re-
plied. " But it is n't only that. Arthur and I had
rather a scene this morning. I promised I 'd go."

Jacob was not content to accept this pronounce-
ment as final. He protested.

" Well, let 's make the best of to-day," prevaricated
Madeline.

Before he left, however, he had wrung a promise
from her. She would not go until the day after to-
morrow unless it rained.

As Jacob walked home, he felt the first drops
falling. By the time he reached Bloomsbury Square
it was pouring.

" Oh ! well," he sighed, as he let himself in, " I
suppose I must be thankful for small mercies. I 've
had to-day."

He found the drawing-room in darkness. He

504 JACOB STAHL

supposed that, contrary to precedent, Lola had gone
to bed. He lit the gas and found that it was nearly
eleven o'clock. He was just about to put out the gas,
when he saw a letter on the table. He picked it up,
and found that it was addressed to himself (J. L.
Stahl, Esq., was the superscription) in Lola's hand-
writing. It was sealed heavily with black wax.

" Going to slang me in writing this time for a
change," was his thought as he opened it. He had
once before had a letter from her since they had been
married, which had said " certain things " she had
felt she " could not talk about." This letter was ap-
parently in the same strain; the opening seemed
familiar enough. It began directly : " I can't stand
it all over again. I have tried, you don't know how
hard, but you seem to forget that I 've been through
it all before."

" Oh, Lord ! " sighed Jacob.

The letter continued to expatiate on the well-known
theme, laying all the blame upon Jacob, and implying
that the Cairns story had been a fabrication from first
to last. It was not till he had nearly reached the end
that Jacob was startled.

" So I have come to the conclusion that I can-
not stand it any more. When you read this I shall
have gone. Do not try to follow me. You will not
find me. You can think I am dead if you like. —
Lola."

Jacob tossed his head wearily. " What's the game,
now, I wonder .? " bethought. He went to Lola's bed-
room and tried the door. It was not locked. He
opened it a few inches and then knocked, loudly.
There was no answer. He struck a match and saw
that the bed was unoccupied, and the beginnings of
fear began to shake him. Suppose she had committed
suicide, after all? He lit the gas and fell to an exam-

CRISIS 505

ination of the apartment. There was no silver on the
dressing-table. That fact was significant, and he
threw open the wardrobe. It was empty, the chest
of drawers, also.

He shrugged his shoulders, turned out the gas, and
went to his own room. She had not committed suicide,
then, not even left the threat of it over him. That
was a relief, but he was conscious of a feeling of in-
tense sadness. It had all been such a failure. " Poor
Lola! she had not been altogether to blame," he re-
flected ; " he had not done all he might have done.
And he had been unfaithful at the last. Perhaps,
after all, she had been more sinned against than sin-
ning. She had always said that no one understood
her. Well, certainly he had not. He ought to have
tried harder."

Well, it was all over ; to-morrow he would pay oflF
the servants and set about trying to let the house
furnished. He would have about a hundred pounds
in cash when the immediate calls upon him were settled.
There would be a half-year's rent due in March,
but that could wait. Yes ! he must set about letting
the house. And then . . .

He threw up the window and looked out. The
rain was falling steadily. He would not see Madeline
again for a long time. He might never see her again.
He had noticed a slight change in her during the
past few days. To-night she had yawned several
times after dinner, and her good-bye (she had known
it would be good-bye) had not been satisfactory.

Oh! Lord! What was the good of it all? What
a failure he had been — what a complete, miserable
failure! Oh! for sleep and f orgetfulness !

CHAPTER XXXII

SETTLEMENT
1.

Jacob awoke next morning to an immediate con-
sciousness of disaster. He felt that he must have
dreamed disaster all night, though he could remem-
ber no detail of any dream. He found that it was
a quarter to eight and he had not been called.
He verified the fact by looking outside his door for
hot water. As he turned back into the room to ring
the bell, he heard the housemaid coming upstairs.
" They know," was his thought, and " they " must
be paid a month's wages and sent away as soon as
possible. But what was he to do.'* He must find
somewhere to stay, and he must find work. As to
the first necessity, it seemed to him that a boarding-
house would involve least trouble. There were so
many things to do — all of them distasteful. And
first he must tackle the servants. What should he
say?

He spoke vaguely of " circumstances " to the
housemaid, but he was sure that she put the worst
construction on his indefinite phrases. She looked
sorry for him, apologized for being late, and had
the air of moving in a house of tragedy. When she
left the room she closed the door very gently as if
someone were ill upstairs. He had decided that
" they " should stay till Saturday. He must have
time to pack and to find rooms.

After breakfast the cook appeared. He had heard
from Lola that she was " an abominably rude woman

SETTLEMENT 607

with an appalling temper," and he anticipated some
kind of a scene when she came in. He knew it was
the cook before she entered, because she knocked.
He was agreeably surprised to find her a motherly,
generous person. She avoided any allusion to Mrs.
Stahl, and explained that she had "just come to
say don't bother about the 'ouse, that '11 be all right.
Me and Jane '11 put everything straight for yer be-
fore we goes. And can't we 'elp yer with yer
packing? "

" I should be awfully obhged if you would. It 's
very good of you," said Jacob.

He was quite touched by the gentleness and con-
sideration of cook and Jane.

While he was looking over some of the rubbish
that might be burnt, he came across the drawing of
the priest's door of the church at Ashby Sutton.
After a long survey he decided to keep it as a re-
minder of unfulfilled determination. Moreover, he
had been working on that drawing at the time when
he first came to know Madeline. " Curious that that
drawing should never have been finished," he thought.

2.

He would not go near Eric, Bradley, or Ridout
Morley, and his search for work was little more than
a pretence. He had found a boarding-house in Tor-
rington Square that was cheap, if not over clean, and
in his poky third-floor bedroom he completed the
work of the little £1,500 house he had on hand.
He fancied that his client guessed that his architect
was in trouble, but the client was a good fellow who
professed himself perfectly satisfied with all the de-
tails of his house, and paid his architect's commission
in full some time before it was due. The builder

508 JACOB STAHL

was settled with by the end of March, and then Jacob
found his time completely free.

He made another feeble attempt to find a place
as assistant. He visited the offices of two or three
architects known to him by name only. He was re-
ceived politely and a promise made that Mr. Stahl's
name should be remembered if a vacancy occurred,
but he did not build on these promises, and the pros-
pect of earning money seemed as far off as ever.

He had let the house in Bloomsbury Square, fur-
nished. He had had luck there, as he had found
another architect, just starting in practice, who had
been willing to pay £4t a week.

" You might, perhaps, care to sell the furniture at
a valuation, later on.? " suggested his tenant. Jacob
had vaguely answered that perhaps he might. He
still had faint hopes of a miracle.

And during those long, dreary two months he
looked in vain for any news of Lola. She did not
write, and neither did he meet her in the street nor
hear any news of her. He thought at first that she
might have returned to Upper Wobum Place and to
her original work, but as the weeks passed and he did
not hear from her, he put that idea away from him.
If the running away had been some " game like the
sham suicide business," he thought, " she 'd never
have kept it up as long as this." Yet he had no sus-
picion of the real facts of the case. He had no
suspicion concerning the integrity of Frank Reade.

At the beginning of April he found that he had
some £40 left after he had paid the six months' rent
of the house in Bloomsbury Square. His tenant paid
monthly in advance. He had the satisfaction of
knowing that the house was off his hands. The
incomings from it slightly exceeded the rent, rates
and taxes, and he could at any time transfer his

SETTLEMENT 609

lease to the new tenant, and sell the furniture at a
valuation. He was at ease on that score, but he
must find work. He sighed, he was feeling run-down,
nervously worn out, depressed, useless, suicidal.

At last he decided that he would enjoy one more
fortnight of life; he would go right away into the
country and " think things over." He must find
new energy, he was drifting hopelessly, he was los-
ing his pluck and his pride, degenerating; he was
coming within sight of the condition of that grate-
ful man to whom he had once given a shilling on the
Embankment.

He had never been to Cornwall. It was an ex-
pensive journey, but it sounded so remote. He closed
his account with the Bank one morning in April, and
on the next day he took train from Waterloo with
one handbag on the rack, and £33 in notes and gold
in his pocket. He had left his heavy luggage in Tor-
rington Square, and arranged with his landlady to
keep his room for ten shillings a week until his return.

As the train steamed out of Waterloo Station
en route for Padstow, he peered out at the roofs and
smoke of London, and wondered whether he would
ever see them again.

That was a point which he had decided to settle
within sight of the sea.

EPILOGUE

THE EARTH-NOTE

He wrote the epilogue himself, but he thought of it
as a prologue, and perhaps he was right. Neverthe-
less, it is, also, an epilogue.

He did not commit his prologue to paper, but he
phrased much of it in his mind. His mind was singu-
larly clear that morning.

He was sitting on a step of rock, the top step of
a short natural ascent. Behind him the cliff rose
for another eighty feet or more, in front of him it
fell sixty feet into the sea. He had come down the
valley to the point of the western arm of the cove
that the natives call " Livelore." (The spelling is
phonetic. The " i " is short, as in the verb.) On
his right was the U-shaped cove that ran back a hun-
dred yards or more into the cliff, a cove walled by
dizzy heights of rock, and entered only by one peril-
ous-looking path which he had not dared to venture
upon. On his left lay the valley and the bluff beyond,
indifferently skinned with grass, through which broke
rough bones of granite. Down the valley careered
a tiny, impetuous stream that tumbled at last on to
a table of rock and slipped down forty feet into the
sea. At the foot of the bluff a tumble of rocks reached
out into deep water. And before him rolled the
Atlantic; there was no land in that direction for
8,000 miles.

There had been a storm out on the Atlantic some
time during the previous twenty-four hours, and
though the wind was now blowing mildly in harmony;

THE EARTH-NOTE 611

with the passing brightness of the April day, the
rollers were coming in with sullen, deliberate force,
barking deep-throated with hoarse protestations as
they burst on the pinnacle of rocks at the foot of the
outstretching bluff. And sometimes below the baying
and bellowing of the sea, the spatter of falling spray,
and the medley of indistinguishable sounds that made
a running accompaniment to all the clamour of sepa-
rate, recognizable over-tones, Jacob could hear a
deep, low boom that reverberated on a lower note
than the lowest mutter of thunder. He fancied to
himself that this occasional reverberation was the
earth-note, the tonic of the very world itself, beating
out below the crash of sea and rock. It was a note
he had heard as the fundamental note of extraordi-
nary gales ; perhaps, then, too, the whole shell of
earth had been shaken until it resounded to the full
keynote of its structure. . . .

He was happy that morning; the sight and sound
and smell of the sea had brought back life and vigour.
As he sat on his lonely seat of rock, with only the sea
for company, he had a vision of himself in relation
to his whole past life.

Surely some directive force must have been behind
all the curious coincidences of his existence, from the
concurrence of trifles that had upset him from his
perambulator down to the present hour. He had had
experience! The thought came to him as new. He
had not realized in the happening quite all the ex-
perience he had gained. He had known two women
intimately. . . .

Madeline ! His feeling for her was a kind of ache
of regret. He guessed that she was lost to him again,
and lost for ever. Perhaps she was his affinity, but
in this incarnation the directing force had ordained
that she should go through her world experience with

612 JACOB STAHL'

blind eyes, seeking ephemeral pleasures and missing
the stay of lasting satisfaction. Poor Madeline ! He
still had an ache of longing for her presence, but she
lacked something of perfection even in his eyes. He
could not continue to love the inconstant. He sighed
for Madeline.

And Lola.? Pity was the only thought In his heart
for Lola. She was cursed, ridden by the fierce devil
of her own egotism, and so — incapable of giving
even the temporary love which Madeline could give.
He did not sigh for Lola : he merely pitied her. Her
case was hopeless. He would have liked to help her ;
he would have been delighted to learn that she had
found some approach to happiness, but he never
wished to see her again. . . .

But what of all the other personalities who had
figured in his experience.'^ Had they found satis-
faction — happiness ? What of Bennetts, Tony Far-
rell, Bradley, Cairns, Eric? Did he envy any of
them.? No! He doubted if one of that five, for in-
stance, was capable of the joy he was experiencing on
this morning of April sunshine, as he looked out over
the tumult of the sea and listened to the occasional
reverberation of the earth-note. After all, every one
of them was intent on self-seeking. Each of them
wa« generous in his own way, capable of fine emo-
tions, no doubt, but they were all wrapped in the
small affairs of life; their outlook was very limited.
Was any one of them adding to the knowledge of the
world.? could any one of them echo responsively to
the boom of the earth-note? . . .

Ah! well, it was easy enough to analyze, but what
could he do.? He felt in tune with the eternal forces
that morning, but when the influence passed, would
he not fall back into feebleness .? What was it he was
so proud of being? — Even his mood of exaltation

THE EARTH-NOTE 618

could not suggest of " having done." ** Nothing," he
answered to the sea — " nothing. But the time has
not been wasted. I have had to learn in bitterness,
but I have not lost my ideals. They cannot be spoiled
by any human action, by any slight, or cruelty or in-
difference. My ideals stretch out beyond the limits
of this little world, they reach out towards the eternal
values."

As he set his face inland to the tiny hamlet, the
ragged cluster of cold stone cottages that make up
the village of Trevarrian, he made up his mind that
his satisfaction could only be found in hterature. " I
must make a living somehow," he thought, " and I
must read again, and I must learn to write."

With a face that still glowed from his passing
vision of the eternal values, he faced with eagerness
the outset of a new life. . . .

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